


TrueMet

by phantom4j



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 162,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom4j/pseuds/phantom4j
Summary: AUs.  What happens when two universes, each incomplete but functional, find each other after eons of wandering? When the lives of six people meet in one place in space-time?  And when myth and legend walk abroad. The story of John, Dean and Sam Winchester, JDM, Jared and Jensen. Featuring The Crow Girls, Newford, Tamsen House, Kellygnow, and the Creek sisters courtesy of Charles deLint.My thanks to the marvellous karfraegh for the beautiful banner and for her continual encouragement and kind words!  You ROCK!**





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Prologue

I

It was a little hum, the song its Self, so faint that only it could register its own existence.

Greengold laughter and tumbling notes along and across and around and under weaving a wild sweetness in the othernight.

Sensed a twist in the stream of visibleair and deepend its tone, still humming to itself…but with more certainty.

Long and long and notsolong ago its path had appeared, shadowy, faint in the darknight, then, as longago became less long ago until all it was had been “ago” the gold-speckled green singing steadied and grew deeper, path being followed becoming path being built being followed.

Still humming its Self...but with spiraling joy as it discovered its homenotes. Inaudible yet to any who were not tuned to listen, to hear

Below, the impenetrable dark of a night forest soaked up sound, words, and thoughts. Off to the south side of the wood, a tiny fire cast its imperturbable light into the darkness. Two figures sat on the ground, one on a blue jean jacket, one on open soil. Both looked similar, not tall, built lean, faces still, only the eyes moving. Startlingly blue eyes and golden hazel eyes, each gaze sweeping an arc just outside the perimeter set by the fire’s light. Mostly recognizable as men. Then.

After a silence deemed by both of them to be of suitable length, on the West side of the fire, blue eyes slowly drew a pack of cigarettes from the left hand pocket of his blue cambric shirt. On the East side of the fire, hazel eyes mirrored the action, removing a more battered pack from his black jacket pocket.

Each tossed his pack toward the left knee of the other, letting the packages drop to the ground, two soft plops, no dust raised. A pack of matches followed, each to each. Tobacco for talking. Both lit a cigarette. Drew with ceremonial deliberation and inhaled the smoke, exhaled. West side spoke softly, voice carrying through the crackle of the fire, but no farther than its light reached.

“It’s been awhile.”

“Awhile.”

“You feel it?”

“I feel it. You hear it?”

“That?” pointing toward the wandering little humming, now only a hint of goldgreen far on the horizon. “Been hearing it for months.”

“That. Have you seen it?”

“Not until tonight. What do the sisters say?”

“Not much. They’re watching and waiting.”

“And you?”

“The same.”

Silence except for inhaling smoke and exhaling it again. At last, the coyote ears that poked through the brim of his battered hat twitching with sounds heard in the now and in the not yet, the hazel eyed man sighed and assumed his true identity as one of the Old Ones. Then sniffed the air as a coyote. His counterpart nodded tacit agreement and shook off man-form completely.

They stood at the same time and walked to the North end of the circle of light cast by the small fire. Both coyotes, then, in their most comfortable form, they tested the air and the sounds again and whuffed a sneeze. Scanning over each other’s shoulders, then turning to the East and repeating the listening and scenting. Then to the South, and finally the West.

“Answer?”

“Not certain. But there’s something.” The blue eyed coyote dropped his muzzle, pondering. “It’s best that I look into it. Soon.”

“Go well. We meet again when you call it.” Both of them heavier with concern than they had been. Both of them returning to home territory, melting into the surrounding dark without making a sound.

The fire guttered and, after one quick flare as the last of its kindling was consumed, went out.

II

When leaf broke soil, the earth heard. As did things that had seen the making of the earth. Two sets of bright eyes, sharp-visioned, and two sets of quick ears, tuned to the vast register of the worlds as they wereare and as they may be are not - yet.

The crow girls, not sisters as some believed, not tricksters as others believed, paused at the edge of watching the morning march of people walking. Heads down, looking at the sidewalk, finding their way by seeing the same footsteps they had trod the day before and the day before that. Neither Zia nor Maida had seen the maps that their footsteps had obviously made, since their makers followed them so carefully. But both knew that the paths existed. Maida thought the DavidgoestoQuellIndustries map, and the KristingoestoWilloughbyMotors maps existed only in their makers’ minds. Zia wasn’t as sure.

“Do you hear that?” Zia had practiced being ChloeWeathervane for a very long time, more than thirty seconds, when the tiny rumble of a seedlet’s taproot drilling earth registered with her. Simultaneously, Maida looked up from her careful unraveling of the hem of her neon green t-shirt with its Daisy Myka Jelina print on the front.

“We should go and see it. Why is it here?”

“I don’t know. But I think it means us to hear and wants us to see.”

“Let’s find it. Where did you hear it?

“In my ear, but it’s not there, now.”

“I know in your ear. But where is it hiding?”

“Tamson House?”

“Kellygnow?”

“Yesyes, that’s it! A Tamson leaf in Kellygnow forest. We should go and visit it.”

Two girls then two crows winging through the early light, crows talking over the sound of daybreaking latenight. Zia winging more quickly with less care than Maida, who kept the Question in her head longer than Zia. Because A Tamson leaf in Kellygnow Wood was a Question.

Down through the earlygreen of Kellygnow Wood’s spring they circled, drawn immediately to the tiny spot where, almost lost amid the othergreen of maple and birch, a single shoot of red oak had peeked above the dirt.

Girl shaped, Zia and Maida squatted and curiously regarded the tiny sapling. “It’s too small to be one. It’s a saplet.”

“Zia, it’s almost a tree.” Maida frowned at her own words and stood to look out and around her at the still healing wood of Kellygnow. “Almost a tree.”

“Maida? Do you hear that?”

“Not now. But I did.”

Zia cocked her head to the left mirroring Maida, but watching more than hearing. Maida heard more than watched.

“Let’s walk here. Walk and look and listen.”

“Yes. I think that is a veryvery good idea. Then we should go visiting. Northvisiting.”

“Yes. We can see Tuesday! We can go now.”

‘No, not now, now yet. First we will listen and watch. Then Nancy.” Zia pondered the name for a moment. “Then, Nancy.”

III

Most of the time, although to hear the tales a person might not believe it to be so, the sixteen Creek sisters went about their lives just as everyone on the Kickaha rez did. Spring came later there than it did in Newford; the trees still bore only a few leaves, and much of the ground dogpaddled under late winter melt and a few straggly spring showers.

Nancy, eldest of the sisters, and Tuesday, somewhat younger than Nancy, had tromped and sploshed off down Nancy’s winter trap lines, checking mostly for snares in need of repair, and pulling those back with them to the house the sisters shared.

“Sister, what’s going on in that mind of yours?” Tuesday asked. Nancy’s steps had slowed until she stood still in her tracks, listening with every fiber of her being. Listening way, way out and then deep.

“Something’s moving” she replied finally, frowning as she did so. Her eyes narrowed as she turned southwest and then, slowly, a little farther south. “The crow girls are coming. And they aren’t talking as they fly.”

Tuesday’s frown went from minimal to deep and serious in less than a second. “Let’s get these inside. I wonder if we have enough sugar and tea for them.”

“There isn’t enough sugar for those two in the entire world, I think. But tea? Hmm…yes, just barely enough. As long as you make five liters.”

At the front door, Nancy turned and stared out over the land and toward the sky one more time. Lips pursed, she sighed and shook her head, thinking, “I hope I’m imagining this,” knowing that she wasn’t. For just a moment, her shadow shifted shape beside her. Paused as well, then followed her into the house where it took up residence in its corner near the stove.

IV

Jeff finished reading his lines for the twentieth time and sat, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, staring into distance beyond his hotel suite’s living room window. “John?” he whispered, the word a query and a search for the familiar.

The name caught in his throat and he felt like he was strangling until he swallowed convulsively and forced air into his lungs. An ache like nothing he’d ever felt in his life punched his heart; and he choked around the pain.

“John?” And he cried, deep, sharp sobs that barked from him. “John? John?” Alone alone alone alone alone alone… “I…can’t….John?” From the deepest parts of his heart and mind “John?” Tiny, forlorn word. “John?”

“Did you hear that?” Jared asked. “He’s calling for John.”

“Jay, we need to help him. Somehow, we need to help him.”

“Jensen, I’ve told you twelve times. He has a shrink. He’s had a shrink forever. It hasn’t done him any good. You repeating it in his ear again isn’t going to make therapy work.”

“Do we go in?”

“Yeah. He’s expecting us. And I think I have something that’ll make him happy…or happier.”

“New cigar?”

“Uh – that would be a no.”

Jared pulled a shirt out of the large brown paper bag he’d carried with him into the hotel. Startled, Jensen squinted and looked more closely. “Is that – you DIDN’T take something from wardrobe, did you? You freakin’ DID! Of all the idiot…”

“Jensen, I put money where it had been. But he needs something to hold on to.”

“Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m going to do with you!”

“Do you think I’m wrong?” Jay cocked his head to one side and stared at Jensen. Real concern darkened the hazel in his eyes to almost brown.

Rubbing his eyes behind his glasses, Jensen sighed and shook his head. “No. I honestly don’t think you’re wrong. But I DO think we’re helping him to hold on to a delusion. It can’t be healthy for him.” Ruefully, Jensen realized that he sounded like a college professor lecturing a wayward student. And he wondered when he’d become so sedate. “Are you going to give it to him?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you wait a few minutes before you knock on the door?”

“Works for me.”

Jensen watched from a corner in the hall as Jared knocked and the door to Jeff’s room opened. He waited seven minutes before he strode up to the door and knocked himself. “Who is it?”

“Jensen, Jay. C’mon. Let me in.” When Jared opened the door, however, he gently pushed Jensen back and hesitated in the doorway. “He’s tired. Wants to get some sleep.”

“Did he like the shirt?”

Jared’s face shifted soberly. “He thought I was joking with him. I told him I wasn’t, and he – he’s hitting the rack. Says he’ll see us on set in the morning.”

“Okay.” Jensen replied, all the while knowing that they were going to end up camped in Jeff’s sitting area watching over him all night. “Do you think he’s asleep yet? I mean, so we can go in and get comfortable?”

“Thanks, Jensen.” Jared grinned and ushered Jensen inside.

“What’re friends for? You, however, get the chair.” the older man whispered.

“Smartass.” But Jared’s voice was warm. He glanced over his shoulder toward Jeff’s bedroom. “Just keep it down. He needs to sleep.”

An hour later, Jared snored quietly in possibly the most uncomfortable chair Jensen had ever seen. Taking pity on his friend, Jensen hauled Jared to his feet and guided him to the couch. Very much like a half- awake two year old, Jared did as he was told, mumbling indistinctly and sprawling over the couch pillows a moment later.

Jensen waited until he was certain that Jared had no intention of waking up again before he walked silently to Jeff’s door and turned the knob. Peeked in.

Jeff lay curled up on his side, the flannel shirt over him like a blanket and one sleeve clasped firmly in his right hand. The utter stillness in the room startled Jensen and he watched for a few seconds more, making certain that Jeff was alive. Troubled, Jensen shook his head and backed out of the room as quietly as he had entered it.

V

In twenty three years of hunting, John Winchester had never experienced a “standard” hunt. Unpredictable, unique, twice as dangerous as originally expected, failures on epic scale, those hunts were familiar. They kept the expectations of the Winchester men, John and his sons, Sam and Dean, realistic. But standard? Not that he could remember.

Deep set brown eyes narrowed for a tighter focus, he snapped a look to his left and slightly in front of him, checking Dean’s location. A second glance to his right and then up toward the hayloft 20 feet away: Sam peered up over the hay he had burrowed into and nodded toward John.

A quick glance at the EMF in his left hand followed. Five women had lost their lives to “something” that had taken up residence in Joseph Stone’s horse barn. John suspected it might be a woman in white. His other option, once he had seen pictures of the deceased, had been, strangely enough, a rawhead. Since children had been, historically, the sole prey of rawheads, and since the victims had all been women in their 30s and 40s, John’s opinion leaned toward a particularly vengeful woman in white.

Joseph Stone’s great grand aunt Charlotte had committed suicide in 1874 after an illness caused by her husband’s desertion. As did most women in white, Charlotte had lost her sanity for a time and had taken the lives of her four children, stabbing them in their sleep. Once sanity had returned and she had realized what she had done, she had committed suicide, cutting her throat with the same knife that had destroyed her children, cursing and vowing eternal vengeance upon the woman who had “used her wiles to deceive my kind and generous spouse,” as she had written in her suicide note. That alone made this woman in white, if indeed she was the culprit, unique. Women in white attacked unfaithful men. More confusing, the amount of damage done to the corpses seemed beyond the scope of a weeping woman. They generally were satisfied after leaching every drop of blood from their prey’s still-beating heart. Gutted and limbless bodies didn’t fit.

After several hours of research, Sam had discovered references to the violent deaths of children and their mothers, three having taken place in the 19th century. After pondering the evidence for both types of spirits and admitting the strong possibility that they were dealing with something else again, John had settled on the woman in white. But he had also charged one of the high voltage tasers that he and his sons had used on rawheads over the years.

Charlotte had been buried in unsanctified ground and the barn built over it. John understood the impulse, but burying a body was not enough to stop a raging spirit. Never had been, and never would be. Worse, no one knew precisely where under the barn Charlotte had been interred. If indeed the spirit belonged to Charlotte, the Winchesters had two options: burning down the barn to see the location the spirit rose from and dig there, or waiting in the barn to see the same thing and then digging down until they exposed the grave. The look of anguish in Mr. Stone’s eyes at the thought of rebuilding a ruinously expensive barn didn’t translate to his steady statement. “You have to stop it. Burn the barn, whatever you need to do,” persuaded John to attempt the wait and dig.

As Sam had noted, “It’s warmer in a barn than the Impala and the Truck.” And, for someone his height, a whole lot less confining.

So, for the preceding four nights, they’d waited and watched. If there could be anything standard about a job, the hurry up and wait portion was it. Sam had been right about the barn being warmer at least. Wyoming nights remained winter-like well past April.

John didn’t precisely ignore the insistent nagging at the base of his skull, but he didn’t allow it to distract him beyond a quick something’s not right, picked up from his suddenly tense muscles. The nagging something sidled up the back of his neck and across his scalp to his forehead, where it pinched itself into a frown.

At the precise second the EMF squealed spectacularly.

Drag-step, drag-step - in the darkness under the ladder to the hayloft. A wheezing of sound, not intelligible to humans, and drag-step again. A rawhead, not a woman in white. Injured. Trolling the land around the Stone farm and taking anything smaller and weaker as food. John tightened his grip on the taser and peered into the shadows in front of him, totally focused on spotting the rawhead before it attacked him. Or Dean. In his left hand, the EMF caterwauled the alarm one more time.

“Come on, you bastard…c’mon…” John growled under his breath. Drag-step and the wheezing of air being sucked into the raw head’s lungs, then expelled.

Abruptly, everything fell silent. No steps, no breathing, no EMF.

In the loft, Sam poked his head above his straw pile barricade. “What the-” he thought, and one leg at a time, slowly shifted position so he could peer down at Dean and his father. Below him, Dean didn’t budge, but, if he could have, he would have shouted at Sam to “Stay still, damnit!”

The EMF screeched to life in mid-reading. John’s hand jerked and it bounced away into a pile of hay, still squalling. Just as the sound of footsteps came back to life. “Dad!” Dean’s voice yanked John back into the moment.

John spun and headed toward Dean, who, intent on staying alive backed away slowly from the lumbering rawhead. Sam skidded down the ladder, ignoring the splinters that it drove into his palms. “Dad! Throw me the goddamn taser! Now!” he barked.

Half crouched, John lobbed the weapon to Sam, who snatched it out the air on his way into a rolling landing, estimated his aim, and pulled the trigger. Caught unprepared, the rawhead froze on the spot and was parboiled by 10,000 volts of energy to his skull.

“j….o…j…o...” Just a simple set of sounds, so faint that no one but a hunter of John Winchester’s caliber would have caught them. Just once, one set of sounds from the throat of a dying monster.

Which was patently impossible. Rawheads didn’t speak. Growled, grunted, snarled, but did not speak intelligibly.

However, the EMF hadn’t ever skipped like it had two minutes earlier. The sound of footsteps hadn’t disappeared, only to return in mid-stride. And rawheads hadn’t hunted adults, much less spoken. Too many things that shouldn’t happen had happened. John’s lips narrowed in annoyance as he neared the smoking corpse.

Sam squinted and looked closely at his father. He’d picked up on everything, as had Dean, and he didn’t like two things. The first was the way John stared down at the rawhead: Sam had seen that look before. And Nowhere, Wyoming was not where he wanted to spend the next god knows how much time while his dad unsnarled the mess of questions he couldn’t answer at the moment.

The second thing Sam didn’t like was an insistent feeling of uneasiness. If Get the hell out of Wyoming. Now” is just a hint, then Dad’s going to retire and knit. The words had powered up out of the depths of his mind and painted themselves inside his eyelids. Tension pulled across his temple and he squinted as if he was trying to see more clearly just to ease the pull and twitch. Get them far away. Not here. Far away. There only remained the minor challenge of prying John Winchester loose from an interesting supernatural situation.

“Dad, let’s burn this and get moving. I know you had a message from that guy in Missoula…” Dean’s voice startled Sam right out of his thoughts. A quick glance at his brother revealed that Dean’s and his thoughts ran along the same track.

“Dad? Montana? Again?” Sam made certain that his whine sounded appropriately Sam-like and that no relief bled through. Beside him, Dean snorted and shook his head.

“Uhm…Missoula…Missoula. We’ve been here too long already.” John returned to the moment, taking control of the situation at once. “Yeah, again, Sam. At least it isn’t December. Dean, you reconnoitered a good spot to burn this?”

When, two evenings later, John opened his journal to write, he pondered what had happened or not happened during the Stone Farm job. An instinctive pattern seeker, he felt frustrated when he couldn’t see any logic underpinning events. All he could hope was that Jake Troutman’s haunted fence in Montana would be enough of a distraction that a pattern would fall into place when he wasn’t looking. And he wondered for the fifth night out of ten why his sleep was populated with dreams the like of which he’d never had before.


	2. Prologue

John Winchester lurched awake in the middle of his bed, soaked in sweat, right hand clutched tight around his stiff cock, heels grinding against the mattress. Body taut, he struggled for awareness and an orgasm at the same time. Dazed, blinked salty sweat out of his eyes, then focused on his rigid dick. All he could do was stare down, at his cock’s head tense and deep red, sobbing pre-come. When he stroked his thumb over the hyper-sensitive tip, he writhed as it bent a little and jerked back erect. His balls smacked up into his body and he growl-groaned as he came so hard that he curled up around his sex, then arched his back and crashed back into the mattress.

 

Panting, hand still wrapped around his cock, body twitching spasmodically through the aftershocks, John licked his lips and tried to wipe sweat soaked hair back off his forehead. First try – no go. Second try-still no go. Third try (“Damnit, move!”) and, finally, his fingers cooperated. “S…shit…” he whispered to the empty room. 

 

Exhausted, he sprawled on his bed, squinted his eyes, tried to remember the dream that had pulled the orgasm from him. Or, more correctly, that had kicked the orgasm out of him. 

 

Not a wisp of a dream, or a piece of memory. For the second time in five days. Too weary to think any more, he let his eyelids crash down and plummeted back into sleep. On the other side of the door that connected John’s room to Sam and Dean’s, the youngest Winchester sat up in bed and turned toward the wall between himself and his father.

 

 

“Dean, there’s something wrong with Dad.”

 

“Thank you for the enlightenment, Captain Obvious.” Dean grunted as he turned over and sat up beside his lover. 

 

“Should we just ask him what the hell is happening??”

 

“Uh, let me see. Dad, you’ve been having wet dreams louder than the mosh pit at a Metallica concert. What’s up?” Dean shook his head. “Not a topic I’m gonna bring up over breakfast. You want to give it a try?” He turned, butted his forehead against Sam’s. Sam smiled for a moment, then went quiet. Both hunters could clearly hear their father’s panting. They winced simultaneously. 

 

“Suicidal I’m not,” he grunted before he nestled close to Dean and kissed his neck. “It’s almost time to get up-”

 

Dean grinned. “Again?” He trailed the fingers of his right hand over Sam’s abs and smiled even more when Sam shivered and sighed.

 

“Smartass. Me? I’m thinking about Dad lying in that bed and-” Sam’s eyes narrowed and he frowned worriedly.

 

“T.M.I, dude! ”

 

“So shut me up.” Sam chuckled. He felt Dean’s arms tighten around him and sighed contentedly. “There is one good thing about this.”

 

“And that would be-” 

 

“Dad’s so freaked about what’s happening that he has his own room. We’re in another room. With walls between him and us-” Dean pulled Sam back down and over him as he settled onto the mattress. “I love the man, but when he decided to hunt with us for the year, I was hoping he’d kinda remember – no, just a little lower. There-you’re so damn hot – that we aren’t kids any more.” A soft smile lit Sam’s face as Dean’s hand slid further beneath the sheets and cupped his cock. Smiling, his hazel eyes gleaming almost blue in the early morning light, Sam whispered, “What’re you thinking?”

 

“I was thinking we could- you know, do research- yeah, that’s it. Or - ”

 

“Or?”

 

“Or-” Dean’s lips smoothed against Sam’s and, with the exception of some soft laughter and after a time, one or two sated sighs, no further sounds disturbed the near dawn. 

 

***

 

John looked like three day old road kill, and he knew it. Clean and, surprisingly, shaven road kill, but pavement taco none the less.

 

He caught, also, the fact that neither of his sons were about to question him as he strode into the Wilco diner and slid into the booth next to Sam, facing Dean. As they did most mornings, the men grunted something that passed for “good morning” at each other, ordered coffee and food and, without any more conversation, set to work fueling up. Dean glanced at Sam when John’s attention was focused on his eggs; Sam’s frown barely twitched his lips down, which meant he was about ready to ask John what the hell was going on. Dean shook his head, just once, and narrowed his eyes. Sam settled back, shaking his own head and thinking, Winchesters. Damn secretive Winchesters, as he swallowed his coffee.

 

Within the hour, duffels packed, everything checked and double checked, they walked back to their vehicles to continue the trip South on I-25. Dean glanced across the parking lot at his father, who leaned wearily against the fender of his black monster of a truck while he listened to a voice mail. When John flipped his cell closed, Dean started across the lot toward him, calling “Dad? You have everything?”

 

“What kind of a dumbass question is that?” John barked as he turned.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably the kind of question I ask after we had to turn around and go back eighty miles for your journal two days ago!” Dean stalked to within a foot of his father. “Dad, what’s goin’ on?” He was really asking if whatever was happening had anything to do with a curse or a possession or some illness. John sighed and shook his head.

 

“Damned if I know, Dean.” As he spoke, John stared around him, trying to recall how far out of Denver they were. The sensation of sleep walking through partially set Quick-Crete dogged him and made it virtually impossible to concentrate. This whatever it was didn’t match up with any symptoms he could think of, supernatural or not. Nothing damn matched up.

 

“You okay to drive?” Dean stared straight into John’s eyes and the older man knew that his son was asking the question hunter to hunter.

 

About to growl, “What the hell do you think?” John stopped. Although it nearly killed him to say it, he had to be honest. “No.” No hunter would ever consider going into a job in the shape John Winchester found himself. He owed it to Dean and Sam and the people who had contacted them to be on his best game. He needed sleep or he wouldn’t be worth crap. “No.”

 

Dean shot a glance at his father and scrambled to reply in a way that wouldn’t get him punched in the jaw. “Okay. D’you want Sammy or me to drive the beast?”

 

“Is Sam okay?” John glanced over at Sam standing by the Impala, and his brow furrowed. There was something-something he couldn’t quite remember- Impatient with his own disconnected thoughts, John shook his head sharply and turned back to Dean. 

 

Puzzled by John’s random question, Dean cocked his head to one side and examined his father’s face more closely. “Sure. Why wouldn’t he be?”

 

“No reason.” John stretched his back and gulped a little more coffee from the thermos he’d filled at breakfast. “Sam can drive. I know what happened the last time he drove the Impala on his own and I don’t want to listen to you crying about the brakes again. Let’s roll.” He yawned and rounded the front of the truck, clambered into the shotgun seat. Dean’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed speculatively.

 

But he had more than John to worry about. A little apprehensively, because he knew how Sam felt about driving under his dad’s eagle- eyed supervision, Dean crossed the lot and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

 

Sam arched an eyebrow when he saw the look on Dean’s face. “You get to drive the truck, Sammy.”

 

“No! No way. He’s the worst damn backseat driver on the damn planet. And the truck-”

 

“I know, I know. The truck doesn’t have a back seat. Whine, whine, bitch, complain. There’s no way to make you happy-”

 

“I have an idea that’d make me happy. You drive it.”

 

“Uh-uh, Sam. It took me a month to fix everything the last time I let you solo in the Impala.”

 

“Dean, I was 17!”

 

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to do that again in this lifetime.” Dean ignored the long suffering sigh Sam exhaled. “Not working, Sam. Get moving. We’re wasting daylight.” Sam turned so that his back was to John and reached for Dean’s hand. Quietly, serious, Dean murmured “We’ll be okay, baby. I’ll be right behind you…”

 

“I love you, y’know?” Sam glanced toward John, and risked tracing an index fingertip down Dean’s cheek.

 

“I love you, too. Baby? What d’you think about tellin’ Dad?”

 

“About us? Not going there…”

 

“Well, he should know before the commitment ceremony, doncha think?”

 

“Uh-how about five minutes before the commitment ceremony?” Sam argued, too busy talking to look more closely at Dean’s eyes or listen to the tone of his voice.

 

“You just agreed to a commitment ceremony! Damn, I’m good! When d’you want to have it?”

 

“I-what? How the hell-?” Flustered, Sam glared at Dean. Who, of course, looked innocently at the morning sky, whistling a little songlessness under his breath. It sounded a lot like “Here comes the Bride” to Sam’s way of thinking. He growled and glared. Dean kept whistling.

 

“Guys, cut the chatter. We need to get moving.” John retreated back into the truck and rolled the window up shutting out the 40 degree weather.

 

“Oh great. He’s his cheery morning self. Lucky, lucky me.” Dean grinned up at Sam and stroked a finger over the back of Sam’s left hand. “Okay, Mr. Romance. Let’s get movin’. We’ll talk about commitment ceremonies later!”

 

***

 

Sam glanced over at John after he’d been driving for an hour or so. They’d crossed into Colorado and were beating pavement toward Denver and the I25/I70 interchange. John stared out the window at some pretty unremarkable foothills and grassland and dozed off, too worn out to keep his eyes open. 

 

Sam shot another look in John’s direction a bit later in the morning: the eldest Winchester slept uneasily, mumbling something Sam couldn’t make out. Abruptly, he jolted awake, squinted, looked around and asked what, from any other person, would have been a legitimate question.

 

“How far out of Denver are we?” Sam’s eyes blinked slowly at John’s question. His Dad always knew exactly where they were. Without fail and without error.

 

John’s lost tone scared Sam more than a bloody injury would have. But he didn’t say anything, just replied to John’s question. “Couple of hours. We should hit it mid afternoon.”

 

“Head to Breckenridge. That’s where we’re staying.”

 

“Random much?”

 

“Friends. It won’t cost us anything. Take 70 West when you hit the 25/70 interchange.”

 

“Does Dean know?”

 

“When you tell him, he will.” John let his eyelids drop shut and sighed sleepily. “Sammy?”

 

“It’s Sam, dad.”

 

“Sam-” John couldn’t remember what it was he wanted to say. Dazed, he dropped off to sleep before Sam had even called Dean. On his way to unconsciousness, he had a glimpse of Sam walking toward, what the hell was it? A mirror? Vaguely puzzled, he tried to wake up again, gave up when the effort became too great.

 

***

 

Somewhere near Evergreen, the first place beyond which travelers could actually see high mountains, John roused for a few minutes. “What the hell is that music-Sammy, you into some new age crap or something?” 

 

The song wound clear and high, far off in the distance, it seemed. A single line of notes, quietly overwhelming the rumble of the truck’s engine, the clatter of John’s thoughts. Green, he thought to himself. Green like ferns and leaves and grass in the wind. Like spring in willows, green and high and clear and sweet. Music-he wanted to tell Sam to turn off the damn radio, but the effort to speak was beyond him, and he sank below the surface and into exhausted slumber again.


	3. Chapter 2

1

 

_“Now. It must be now.”_

_“Too late. We’re already too late.”_

_“No. But it must be stopped._ Now.” 

 

2

 

_-Brakes – hit the damn brakes…what the_ hell? _You asshole, you just smashed my…damn, what’s-stop! You fucking bastard, you broke my goddamn windshield! Where…red why red? Looks better-sideways-Try to catch that-fractal window-hands-missing-fing-ring…_

_\- Let go of me!_ Let go of me! _No! Leave the dog alone! Don’t-let go of…_

_-Don’t-oh hell- NO! Leave me alone! No knives! Hurts-hurthurthurt! This can’t BE- let me go! I can’t breathe-John? JOHN !!!! Help me!_

 

Not a word aloud as Jeff skidded across what he knew and crashed into deep unconsciousness. Forty seven seconds later, a battered, rust-barnacled white Econoline 150 van jolted out of the parking space it had commandeered and left behind it a blue rental sedan with bashed in windows and a mortally injured dog in the back seat. 

Flung upward and on errantry by the force of Jeff’s terror, unseen, unheard because there were no eyes or ears tuned to the improbable, screeling its own small fury, the littlething ribboned out and sought across the otherlight. Sought for help.

 

****

 

_-Water. Food. Light-.sun burning his neck. Night-.Car-in a car-sleeping between two tall men. Two more in front. Not tall. Sandwich. Water. Miles and miles and sandwich, water, pee, sleep. Miles more-off the road. Too bumpy to be road. First-he-yes, he-Then-where?_

_“Where”_ the question tethering him. If he could discover _where_ , he could figure out-what? What to figure out? Puzzled, he sank back into unconsciousness.

 

****

 

Screaming-his screaming-woke him. Pain from one side of his shoulders to the other. _What?_ He screamed again, a thin, weak cry. _Why?_ What-across his right calf-naked? _Why was he naked? Nononononono, not again_. Two cuts-the tip of the knife balanced on his calf for number three-,Hand minus one finger crushed over his mouth, voice snarling “Shut up, shut up. Shut up or I’ll stick this up your ass.” Red painted blade waved in front of his eyes. _Help-help-they hurting-help_ over and over in his mind. 

 

Other voices. Mumbles. Then a crash and shouting. Agony like fire when something poured into the wounds. Alcohol-He screamed until he had no screams, no awareness left-flung himself over the abyss in front of him - didn’t come back for a long, long time.

 

****

 

“Jerk! Hey! You! Hey, you! Wake up!” Jeff opened his eyes slowly, far too drained to do anything but obey. He was Jeff. That he knew. He had not been dreaming. That he knew, too. Couldn’t see clearly-what-

 

“Get up. Get in the shower. Go on.”

 

Couldn’t. Couldn’t remember-shower? Water-why couldn’t he- Then the blackness returned. He somersaulted into it. But it had changed. He had changed. He remembered. Before.

 

****

 

\- Sleeping. Little song, no-no- colorsong, that was what he’d said –yes- his colorsong wrapped around him-tiny bluesilver singing in his mind. Gentle and hypnotic, now -singing to him through the pain-and he followed the lapis-sapphire-midnight blue, eyes tracking faster than his head, turning blindly, seeking it. 

Giddy with pain, lingering between sleep and unconsciousness, he tried to squint, tried to focus. _Something-shadow-_ there. Just _there_ -beside the colorsong. Wavering-like kelp forest in deepwater- _there._ He reached for it as much as he could, but it eluded his fingers. Straining to touch it, he focused every fragment of energy he had left on cajoling his color song nearer, bringing the other with it. _Pleaseohplease_ -and he heard himself moan with disappointment when he fell away from it. Away.

 

****

 

_I’m Jeff. I’m Jeff. Kidnapped. I’m fucking kidnapped. Kidnapped Jeff. I’m not a kid. I’m kidnapped fucking not a kid Jeff._

_Four of them. There are four of them. One of me_. There are-no, there is one of me.

 

Sleep. Again. But less deeply. Restless in a bed after god knows how long in a car. Hungry and in pain, not starving and in pain. Clean– he shuddered when he remembered the feel of water on his back where-they had thrown him into a-shower because he’d been standing, water cascading _I couldn’t remember how-_ washing at himself until rough hands grabbed and scrubbed mercilessly. Then-

 

Sleep-watching for the second colortone, stronger, able to reach farther toward it, finally able to hear it. Deep, solid green like mossy stones and trees- _almost close enough_ , silverblue twining around it. _Please-help me-help me-_ he thought, over and over and over. Unsure why. Rolling onto his back as the effort drained him. Moaning when his shoulder injury caught on a rough piece of mattress. 

 

“Get up. C’mon, asshole. Get up.” One of them dragged him and he went to his knees. _Assholes_. Froze. _Did I say that out loud? No_.

 

Night-White Briar. Only knew it was White Briar because tall guy said the name twice. White Briar. His heart thudded erratically. He had trouble catching his breath. _Somewhere high, then_. He, fucking kidnapped not a kid Jeff, had been in the Sierras enough to know the symptoms. _Mountains_. He, fucking kidnapped not a kid Jeff, knew he was in mountains. 

 

“Keep your head down. Eat, drink and don’t volunteer anything. Got it?” Tall Number Two didn’t bother to wait for his reply, just pulled on his own beer once or twice and stared between the large clock on one wall and the mirror overlooking the bar. Waiting. Jeff didn’t’t want to know for what. _No, no. Not what._ Who. 

 

A warm place. People. Noise. Food. Food. _They’ll take it. Before I can eat it- not hungry._ Didn’t try to eat until Tall Guy One told him to, and then he couldn’t hold the sandwich. Finally they tore it into smaller pieces for him, laughing at him. No humor there. But food in front of him-and he ate, forcing himself to be slow. Chew. _Don’t barf up food, kidnapped fucking not a kid Jeff. Don’t barf. Drink. Slow. Don’t barf_.

 

He did know that there was a gun trained on him. Short Man Number One had showed him the weapon, some popgun from a rentacop, he’d told Jeff. Popgun that could blow a hole in Jeff big enough to kill him if he acted up. Popgun that had blown a hole in the rentacop, Short Man Number Two without a finger but carrying a long bladed knife had bragged. 

 

Just eating real food and having a beer was enough to put Jeff back to sleep: his body needed time. The edge between healing and sickness still razor blade thin, sharp. Knowing he could be hurt again, he did as he had been told. Head down, quiet, trying not to shiver, not to be obvious. Long and long passed, and they left warmpeopleplace. Head lolling against the back seat of the car, he gave way to dreams. With silver and blue and greengold in them. 

 

Somewhere in early the next morning, asleep, yet aware on one level, Jeff felt it again- _silverblue_ and-stronger than he’d seen it the previous time – greengoldgreengold- _Its song’s different - soft, deeper, older. How can a colorsong be old_ \- he thought as he watched it and his song ribboning toward him. Stirring a little, he reached for it. He. Reached. For. It. For just a heartbeat, it let him touch it with the tips of his thoughts. _Please help. Please,_ he begged whatever the colorsongs were. _Something’s there. I Can Feel It_.

 

Whatever might be on the other end of the greenness, its strength hauled the air right out of Jeff’s lungs, and he instinctively tugged away. _Too much. Too much. Can’t reach it Damn_! Despairing, he fumbled and sank back, then fought to stay awake because he felt a change in the greengold colortone. _Something_ reaching toward him. Too spent to think, he dropped into unconsciousness again, tears trickling from beneath his closed eyelids.

 

Lost. The rest of the second day in…White Briar. Lost. Nothing in him to remember. Food? Maybe. Noise. The car. Two punches to his face. Left. Left. The threat of a knife to his throat. Vicious hands yanking apart the partially healed injuries to his shoulders and calf-screaming. His. _No colorsong. Nothing_. Gone again-tumbling- _time - no time passing-_

 

****

 

He wakened early. Something alien- moving hurt-hurt-bird? _Bird singing. Dark window too high to reach. Too high too far away-bird singing._ No noise from the other room, beyond the door he knew was bolted. Jeff rolled onto his stomach, pushed against the mattress. _So much fucking pain_. Arms shuddering unsteadily, head spinning, he fought to sit up, lost balance and crashed onto his back. The injury across both shoulders protested violently; he refused to make a sound 

He’d heard-Jeff realized that he was thinking in complete sentences. _Jeff. I’m Jeff. I’m not home. I’m hurt. I need help. I do not want to die. I Do.Not. Want. To.Die_

 

He didn’t know how long he had laid there before he realized that he could see, if he closed his eyes, his colorsong. Not far away. Right next to him in the darkness behind his eyelids. _Help. Can you find help_? he thought, reaching toward it, feeble motions supporting equally tentative thoughts. _Can you find help?_

 

Silverblue approached carefully; Jeff felt it reaching out-into him. Cradling the worst of his injuries in itSelf. Not realizing that it had found the othersong. Just out of reach. Not understanding, too weak to think more clearly. All of his remaining strength tied into the words.

 

Silverblue reassured him. Not in words. Music soft and soothing. Gentle in his mind. Then warmth around his shoulders as it enfolded him. _Help?_ I The pain dissipated as it soaked the hurt from him, unable to heal, but able to help him sleep. Other help-the otherhelp and he must touch. 

 

Jeff didn’t know how much time passed: he dozed off still cocooned in the silverblue. Never sensed it weaving farther and farther from him, its edges thin and thinner as it searched. Stretching beyond its limits, for it had not the purpose, the Intention, it needed from its OtherSelf, injured and unconscious, to grow and reach further, not yet. But soon the OtherSelf, hurt though he was, would have to help. Soon. Patiently, never jarring its OtherSelf, it fingered a tiny spindle of itsSelf outward. 

 

Then, _there_ , at the edge of failure, success. Greensong reaching blindly, not far off. Jeff began to stir, responding to the tug of his colorsong, its insistence that he waken and **Intend. Intend.** Intention toward the other. _No! Don’t go back to sleep! Intention! Reach! Reach!_

 

He hadn’t had his arms higher than his shoulders in what seemed to be forever, and the ache of raising his left arm brought him to consciousness. Teeth gritted, aware that he was acting insanely, but beyond caring, he reached as hard and as far as he could physically. The color song singing more certainly and feeding warmth back to him, him reaching back. Providing intention. 

 

Intention. 

 

Contact. Felt greengoldsolng clasping his wrist. Something there, strong and solid as a mountain reaching back. And silverblue song wrapping around the greengold. _Please-oh pleasehelp-_ ,he sobbed inside his head. Not knowing, not understanding, reaching.

 

Too much; too much strain. Too far to pull. So abruptly that he let go just one “No!” before he swallowed any more words, sobbing aloud but into his sleeved forearm, he sank back onto the rumpled bed. Alone. 

 

_Not alone._

 

The wordthought spun out of the Vast once, and then, again. _Not alone._

 

Jeff’s eyelids twitched open behind his forearm. Silently, he parroted the words.

 

2

 

The quiet might have been what woke him up. Either that or someone ssshing someone else. Loudly. Mind moving languidly, he wondered why people made so much noise telling other people to be quiet. Whoever it was sounded like a tire leaking air.

 

John opened his eyes and squinted, disoriented. “How long the hell was I asleep?” he muttered to no one in particular. Which was a good thing, since no one was there. Nor moving in whatever lay beyond the door directly to his left. He was warm and stretched out on a bed, both positives. Better yet, he wasn’t tied down and bleeding. John peered up at the ceiling twelve feet at least above him. Wooden beams at right angles to whitewashed pine planking: not a jail or a hospital, then. The mattress on which he sprawled held him without sagging; it had seen use, but not the wear and tear of most of the motel beds he and the boys used.

 

He shifted his hips experimentally: just morning wood, no raging I’m going to have heart attack if this keeps happening erections with wet non-dreams. “More sleep, Winchester?” he rasped, his voice scratchy and dry. “Nope. Had enough. I’m talking to myself.”

 

He tugged at the comforter under which he rested and scanned from left to right, head sunk so far into feather pillows that his lateral view had been blocked. He felt like he was floating on well whipped egg whites. John waited until he had all of his muscles back under control before he rose to a sitting position, found a horizon where the wall met the floor and grounded himself. 

 

“Anybody out there?” he shouted. Of course, he realized a heartbeat later, if he had been a prisoner, he’d just told the enemy that he was awake. 

 

“Yeah! That you, dad?”

 

“Who the hell else would it be?”

 

Dean opened the bedroom door and grinned in at John. “Dunno.” John didn’t see the relief in his older son’s eyes: he was too busy trying to maneuver himself out from under the billowing comforter. Bonnie’s doing: darned woman wanted everything perfect, which meant white and dratted fluffy! He felt like an idiot.

 

“We’re here?” 

 

“Yeah. You woke up long enough to tell us how to find the house. Then you headed back to whatever the hell you were dreaming about. Noisily.”

 

“Yeah, Dad. Gotta put a lid on the humming while you’re sleeping, okay?” Sam leaned against the door’s frame, not quite hitting the top jamb as he did so. “You look better.”

 

“Than –“

 

“Than death. Yeah, better than death. But, you slept for twenty hours. You should have seen what you looked like before.” John paused in mid comforter deflation and shot a look at his younger son. Sam had squinted his eyes shut in the vain hope that, if they were closed, John wouldn’t have heard what he said. 

 

John’s glare would have melted an entire continental glacier. In one glance. “Twenty hours? What the hell? And you didn’t wake me up? Can I ask, oh, why?” By that point, his voice had accelerated to full shout mode. Lamb-like innocence radiating in their expressions, his boys stared at him and then at each other and back at him. Dean opened his mouth, but John had had enough. He still had a battle to win with a blasted king size freakin-feather comforter. “Okay you two, I’m gonna wash my face and then we’re going to say hi to Bonnie and Hal. Get a move on.” Pointedly ignoring their inglorious retreat, he finished shoving the comforter aside and swung his legs over the side of the mattress waiting for sleep induced dizziness to clear.

 

Still a little dazed and slow moving, he pushed himself to his feet and wobbled toward the bathroom. Within five minutes, he’d peed, and splashed enough water in and around his face to clean both it and the floor, the mirror, and two sinks. Still muttering under his breath, he grabbed the toothbrush and paste that the boys had unpacked and scrubbed at his teeth. 

 

***

 

Sam frowned at Dean. “Should we tell him?”

 

“What? That we couldn’t keep him awake? That we’ve been sitting here watching him like two mother hens for the past sixteen hours? I don’t even know how to explain it. One thing for sure, Dad shouldn’t try to hum. Not even when he’s awake. That thing he kept trying to sing all night - no way am I going to tell him about that. I’m with Bonnie on this one. We’ll let him figure it out himself. C’mon. He’s drying up the lake he splashed on the bathroom floor. Get back to our room and pretty up, lamb chop. We’re going visiting.”

 

“You ever call me lamb chop again-” Sam glowered, looking about as intimidating as an Irish wolfhound puppy with indigestion. Dean winked and nodded his head toward the bedroom at the other end of their cabin. 

 

“Last one there doesn’t get any tonight,” Sam whispered before he wheeled and took off.

 

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean shot after him.

 

****

 

John paused in the middle of getting dressed and looked out the bedroom window at his surroundings, remembering the first time he had met Bonnie and Hal. In the intervening years, they had remodeled what had once been a single story mountain cabin into a two story home.

 

The guest cabin, actually a great room and two master bedrooms with identical, cavernous bathrooms, one at the east end and one at the west of the rectangular building, would easily have sheltered twelve skiers, their gear and any pets smaller than Welsh ponies. The floors were polished pine, lovingly cared for: Bonnie spent a good deal of her free time woodworking, John knew. And floors fell into that bailiwick, in her opinion. From his window, he could see both Lodgepole pines and Douglas firs, carefully harvested so that pine bark beetles couldn’t make the jump between the trees. In addition, aspen and rowan, a favorite of Hal’s, had been set into locations as if they’d grown there from seeds. Much of the forest floor was bare, except for a matting of fallen pine needles and occasional leaves from the autumn before. 

 

Built of logs like the guest house, the main house sprawled along the Southeast slope of the property; Boreas Pass switch backed up and to the east behind him, Hoosier Pass rose to the left and south, and Highway 9 led roughly North toward Frisco, Dillon, Copper Mountain, and I-70. Hal and Bonnie had laid their expanded home so that the best view looked northwest, not necessarily framing the ski area, but definitely showing as much of the Ten Mile peaks as possible. The great room, its windows standing two stories tall, occupied the northern end of the house. The main door of the house stood next to the roughed out driveway, half a story lower than the north, and newer, end of the home.

 

After dressing in presentable clothes and pulling on his blue pea coat, John led his sons across the yard and knocked at the door. 

 

“John! Come on in! It’s unlocked!” came a booming basso from the home’s interior. Dean glanced at Sam, who frowned and shot a look at John.

 

“People don’t lock up during the day here, even in the 21st century. Got it? Not one word from you two about safety,” John warned. Much more loudly, he called back, “We’re coming in!” Once in the entry, he peered up at the landing to the half floor and grinned broadly at his host. “Hal! How’re you doing?”

 

Hal Donaldson, almost as tall as Sam, but red haired and brown eyed, built like a lumberjack, broad shouldered, greeted the hunters warmly and offered them a beer, which Sam and Dean took, but which John declined with thanks. 

 

“Bonnie, something’s wrong with John! He turned down a beer!” Hal called into the kitchen. 

 

Bonnie’s soft alto came back with, “Still get altitude sickness at the drop of a hat, John?” Her cheerful laugh preceded her into the great room and she smiled at the Winchesters, a glint in her eyes. “Well, come on up, you three! “

 

As is so often the case, Bonnie was the polar opposite of her husband in coloring and height. A mere five feet three inches, silver haired and blue eyed, she appraised all the three hunters while she talked. She’d already met Sam and Dean, but was curious to see how they got on with John. Sons or not, his boys must have found John a trial at times. “Here, John. I hope you still like chamomile tea. Boys, forget that you see your Dad drinking this. No need to damage that hard drinkin’ reputation.“She grinned when John turned pink. “You still blush like a kid, John. Boys-“

 

“We know, ma’am. No one’ll know it but us.” Dean spoke solemnly, although the sparkle in his green eyes would have warned a myopic librarian. “We’ll know, of course, but we won’t say anything.” 

 

“Of course you won’t,” John grumbled as he glared at his sons. Bonnie noted the twitch of Sam’s lips as he struggled manfully to contain his laughter, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. Even Dean seemed to be having trouble containing a snicker, if the wry twist of his lips was any indication. Ever the essence of diplomacy, especially since she had provided the ammunition that Dean and Sam now possessed, Bonnie changed the topic.

 

“Is everything okay in the guest house? We haven’t had anyone out there since the end of ski season. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. But I expect to see you for lunch every day unless you’re out-you know.” Bonnie stared at John, who flushed a deeper red and cleared his throat. “Notice that I didn’t say supper or breakfast. I’m not an idiot.”

 

“Yes ma’am…I mean, no ma’am,” John replied, beaming one of his legendary smooth and I’ll charm you into what I want aw-shucks grins.

 

“Don’t flirt, John Winchester. Lunch! Or I’ll send Ben Two to get you moving.”

 

“Ben Two as in related to Ben One?” John’s open dismay startled Sam and Dean. They both stepped a little closer to him, prepared for danger. Bonnie’s smile lit her eyes and she heard Hal chuckling quietly.

 

“Got it in one! Come on in and have a seat. Good to see that you slept off all that driving, John. The boys said you’ve been in Wyoming and Montana. Glutton for high altitude disorientation – are you still calling it that - aren’t you?” Her smile faded as she regarded John more intently. Flicking a glance toward Dean and Sam, she added, “Boys, all joking aside, your dad suffers from serious altitude sickness if he overdoes things. If any of you start feeling dizzy or have severe headaches, drink more water, take a rest and, if that doesn’t help, get to the clinic in Frisco. If you can’t drive, we’ll take you. It’s nothing to take lightly, even though Mr. I’m Tougher Than Any Mountain Man, over there, would like to think he’s immune.” Hal laughed aloud at John’s chagrin. 

 

“All right, honey. Leave the man alone. Let him drink his tea in peace. And come and help me with these sandwiches and the soup.”

 

“Ben?” Dean asked under his breath.

 

“Mastiff. Slobbers.” John cringed. He glanced around quickly, seeking the terrible Ben Two; evidently, the dog and his drooling chops lurked elsewhere on the property.

 

“We will make lunch. If it kills you both. Clear? Bonnie’s a damn good cook, anyway. Got it?”

 

“Sir, yes sir…” Dean agreed, echoed by Sam.

 

Bonnie, watching the Winchesters as they talked with Hal, wondered if John knew that Sam and Dean were lovers. That the boys were was plain as day to her: Dean’s entire body language changed, softened and invited closeness when he talked to Sam, and Sam couldn’t seem to stay more than two feet away from his brother, touching him, just a gentle nudge or a brush of the back of his hand to Dean’s hand. Even so, Sam didn’t miss anything about his surroundings. An apparently casual shake of the head afforded him an opening to evaluate the house and to check for exits and entrances. But Dean was obviously the center of Sam’s world. Dean, for his part, would have scoffed at the notion that anyone could see that Sam was the star under which day and night made their appearances in his world. Dean wasn’t as guarded as he thought, she mused.

 

John, though-something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The chamomile tea had had an immediate effect on him, much to her surprise. It was as if she’d added valerian root to the chamomile, he relaxed so completely. Still, every few minutes, he’d squint and peer around, almost as if he were trying to identify a sound. Something that only he could hear, since neither of the boys reacted. The circles under his eyes had circles in turn: John wasn’t sleeping well, the previous twenty hours of unconsciousness notwithstanding.

 

***

 

All three Winchesters dived into the lunch that Bonnie and Hal served up. Elk chili was accompanied by sandwiches that Sam immediately dubbed Two Mile Highs. “Well, Breckenridge is almost two miles high. This is great, Bonnie!” After inhaling two sandwiches, he demolished a third a little more sedately and played footsy with Dean under the table. Bonnie, Hal and John caught up on the previous three years.

 

The talk wandered from building- Hal provided local contract support for three log cabin companies with projects in the area between Fairplay and Beaver Creek- to tourism. Bonnie worked for the county court and was a leading light in the tourism organization for Summit County. They touched on the supernatural, as well. John had a professional interest in making certain that Dillon Reservoir’s ghosts and poltergeists had not caused more problems in the three years since he’d last visited Summit County. 

 

Lunch over, and the dishes cleaned up, conversation lagged and the three hunters headed toward the landing to make their departure. “Hal, and this isn’t dismissing your cooking, Bonnie, but is the White Briar still open? For dinner, that is.”

 

“Yup, want to call and make reservations? Just remember, it’s pretty upscale price wise…”

 

“You do know Dad.” Sam observed blandly. Their life as hunters left little room for splurges at restaurants or in motel rooms, which, in Sam’s opinion, suited his dad’s thrifty nature much too well. 

 

“Enough! If things haven’t changed too much, they still do great prime rib. And venison.” Sam rolled his eyes and frowned before he could catch himself. He saw his father’s wry smile and waited for a typical John Winchester comment. “Do they still have fish? You know, for the fussy eater in the family?”

 

“The salmon steak that they do is better than the prime rib as far as I’m concerned. They fly the fish in fresh three times a week. That’s one of those things people on a tourism board learn about,” Bonnie replied, answering Sam’s question right along with John’s. 

 

“How about 7:00, John?” Hal flipped open the phone book and rooted through for the White Briar’s number. When John didn’t answer him right away, he glanced up and repeated himself. “John? 7:00?” Startled, the hunter shot a glance at Hal and nodded shakily. “John, you all right?”

 

“Yeah-“he murmured faintly. More coherently, he repeated himself. “Sure, Hal7:00 you said? Thanks for making the call. ” His voice trailed off again.

 

“John, are you sure you’re not getting altitude sickness? It can affect you quicker than you might think.”

 

“No-no. I just was dazed for a minute. That’s all.” Even as he dismissed what had happened, John felt again the tug of something, a sound that pulled his attention from what Hal was saying. It sounded like music. “Boys, d’you hear-“His voice trailed off as he looked back toward the front window of the great room. 

 

“C’mon, Dad. I never thought I’d say this, but I think you had too damn much sleep.” Dean felt like he was treading on eggshells, almost literally. Behind him, Sam linked a finger through one of his belt loops as unobtrusively as possible;and he patted his brother’s hand to reassure him. “Thanks for lunch, Bonnie, Hal. I think we need to take a five mile hike, just to, you know, get Dad acclimated. He isn’t as young as he used to be.”

 

“Who are you calling an old man?” John snapped.

 

“Well, at least you can hear all right now. C’mon.” John grunted, seemingly nowhere near as amused as Dean. 

 

“See you for lunch tomorrow, you two,” he called back to Hal and Bonnie. Definitely back inside himself, he strode out the door and across the drive. Dean’s smile faded as he watched his dad enter the cabin. 

 

“Sam? What was that?”

 

“I don’t know, man. Is he old enough to have a stroke?” Sam’s overactive imagination kicked into high gear and he started sorting through his memories for every detail he’d ever read about stroke victims. Just why he’d ever read about strokes, even he couldn’t have explained to Dean. “He was preoccupied.”

 

“Is that what you call it? And what the heck is that about a ten mile hike?”

 

“It was a five mile hike, and I said that to get a rise out of Dad. Needed to know if he was hearing all right. I guess I should have checked you, too.”

John had waited for them to come in before he salted the door, something that he generally didn’t do during the daytime. Startled, Dean nevertheless helped his father finish the lines and wards while Sam checked the windows and doors. “All set?” he finally asked.

 

“Yup. Don’t ask – I don’t know why we just laid lines. I just had a gut feeling.”

 

“Then we did the right thing. It’s four o’clock now. You going to want a shower when you get up?” Dean spoke as normally as he could, trying to pull them all back from whatever was happening.

 

“I’ll be awake. Twenty hours of sleep is enough! If I sleep any more, I’ll never wake up enough to enjoy the food-” John felt a yawn working its way up his throat and firmly swallowed it back.

 

“Are you breathing?” Sam asked before Dean could.

 

“Uh.…” John inhaled and exhaled “Yeah.”

 

“Your name is John Winchester?” Sam continued. Dean arched an eyebrow and stepped back a foot.

 

“The last time I looked. At least on this driver’s license.”

 

“Then nothing is going to keep you from enjoying your food.” Nice shot, bro! Dean had to admit it: he was impressed.

 

John just gaped at Sam, who stared back, lips twitching in amusement. “Sammy, that wasn’t necessary.”

 

“It was funny, though. Admit it.” John just glowered. Dean bit the inside of his mouth in order to contain his laughter.

 

“There’s always that five mile hike you were talking about. We can fit that in before supper. Work up a good appetite, you know?”

 

“Or we could do some research and save our energy. While you journal and make phone calls.” Dean replied, thinking that he and Sam might actually have some time to themselves. Little Dean woke up at that notion, and went rock hard when he saw the bulge of Sam’s jeans. _College boy, always faster on the uptake._ Leering gleefully in anticipation, he started to pull Sam toward the bedroom.

 

John stopped in his tracks, seemed to make a decision about something. He turned and looked quietly at his sons. “I know. I’ve known for a long time. Make sure you take care of each other. Always.” Quirked a little smile on one side of his mouth and closed the bedroom door behind himself. Locked it.

 

For perhaps 10 seconds, the guys didn’t make much of John’s enigmatic words. Then, all the light bulbs flicked on and they stared at each other, then at the bedroom door.

 

“What the hell did he-Damnit! Sam, get outside in case he tries to leave through the window!”

 

Sam bolted like a shot. Dean lunged for John’s bedroom door. And, when John didn’t open it immediately, barreled into it with his shoulder and forced it open. His shoulder protested and threatened to dislocate, but Dean wasn’t listening. 

 

John hadn’t even made it to his California king bed. Freeing a knife he had sheathed against his lower right arm, he spun on his heel, ready for an attack. 

Dean didn’t flinch, just rubbed his aching shoulder and snapped,

 

“You sounded like – like, well you know!”

 

Flummoxed, John sheathed his knife and scratched the back of his neck. “I told you I knew about you and Sam! What did you-?”

 

“Dean? Is he okay?” Sam’s shout would have wakened Rip van Winkle.

 

“He’s okay. C’mon back in here, baby!” Dean called back. Startled, Sam looked at Dean, then nodded and loped back into the cabin.

 

“I’m fine boys, but I don’t think you are. Dean, what kind of idiot thing were you thinking I was -” John went through what he’d said and put everything in perspective. With realization came a faint smile, and some not so faint disapproval. “Guys, what have I told you about suicide?”

 

“Suicide?” Sam squeaked. “You were going to commit…” He gaped at John and then wheeled, eyes wide and shocked, to Dean, who sighed and shut his own eyes, searching for the ever elusive control that he supposedly possessed by the bucketful.

 

“Sammy, I wouldn’t do that,” John protested. “You ought to know that by now.”

 

“I think that Sam and I were leaning more toward the great Winchester disappearing act,” Dean responded. “It sounded like you were saying good- bye. Going out to hunt on your own to keep us safe.”

 

‘No, it sounded like I was-” John countered sensibly. “Oh, yeah. Okay, so it might have sounded a little like I was saying good bye. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.”

 

“Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s all good…of course...sure…that’s how you sounded.”

 

Dean stretched his arm toward his shoulder and winced. “Solid door.”

 

“You think? Sam, check him out. The shoulder, I mean…” A few seconds passed and no one moved, although Sam did look over his shoulder once toward the bedroom at the other end of the cabin. “Out” John barked. 

 

“Yessir!” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam, who blushed furiously and retreated to their bedroom. Dean grinned and shrugged, then headed right after Sam.

 

Two seconds later, the door slammed and John heard the lock click as it engaged. Shaking his head as he did so, he shut his door, thought about locking it and decided not to. Dean’s shoulder wouldn’t survive another attempt at forced entry. 

 

“Dean…” Sam sighed and leaned into Dean’s embrace, “He’s known…all this time. Why say something now?”

 

“I don’t know, Sammy. The day we can read Dad’s mind is the day we better get off the hunt because the world has turned inside out-”

 

Sam laughed a little and captured Dean’s right hand between his own. “I love you, man.”

 

“Really? And all this time I thought you were after Caleb.”

 

“Dean, for gods’ sakes, I’m being romantic and you have to go and squash it like that? I might not get over this one!”

 

Dean’s chuckle echoed through Sam’s torso and he turned to face his older brother. “I love you in spite of your warped sense of what passes for humor.“

 

“Really?” Dean unbuttoned Sam’s favorite blue Henley and tugged it up from the hem. Sam lifted his arms, forcing Dean up on tiptoe to get the shirt all the way off. On the way down, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and kissed him lightly. “What else do you love me in spite of?” he murmured as he stroked one hand down Sam’s back and up under the next layer of shirt.

 

“I love you in spite of the fact that you’re always bitching about how many clothes I wear.”

 

“It’s not bitching. I’m just making an observation-” Dean replied, tugging at the mock turtle neck, also blue, that Sam wore under the Henley. “You wear too many-lift your arms up, willya? Now bend over so I can pull this off-clothes!”

 

Sam reached out to Dean and pulled his khaki outer T-shirt off. ”You wear more than one shirt.” Dropped his hand down to stroke Dean’s swollen cock through his jeans before he unsnapped and unzipped them so he could get where he wanted to be. Dean moaned a little and leaned into Sam, loving the touch of his fingers against his dick.

 

“Underwear don’t count, and you freakin’ know it!” Dean groused. The protest skittered into a sigh when Sam reached up under Dean’s T-shirt and stroked his back and sides, pulled him closer. “How many freakin’ t-shirts-two? No wonder you-ohhh-” Sam’s tongue slithering down the side of his neck and back up the other side effectively stopped Dean’s complaining. Not that it had been any more than half hearted anyway.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Uh huh?” Dean unbuttoned and unzipped Sam’s jeans, stroking his cock through the material of his boxer briefs. The long, stiff ridge that was his brother’s dick hardened all the more under Dean’s fingers. When Sam reached inside his jeans, Dean sighed and push-ground his cock against Sam’s hand. Still half dressed, they kissed long and easily, with the familiarity and deep love built on a lifetime of caring that went far beyond their sibling relationship. Dean’s cock stiffened and began to leak pre come under Sam’s hand as he stroked the engorged vein on the bottom side of it and ran a fingertip across the bundle of nerves just under the head. 

 

“Horizontal. Us?” Sam’s voice, full of need and warmth, was as soft as the kiss he brushed across Dean’s lips. “Now?”

 

“I can do that,” Dean replied, voice as soft as Sam’s.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

1

 

John woke himself up – nothing could have completely shut off his internal alarm clock, and the combination of being crumpled against a headboard and drooling soggily down his left cheek only served as an additional rise and shine call. His journal lay across his legs and a glance at his watch told him that he’d only been out of it for about fifteen minutes. Yawning, he slid off the bed, scuffed his palm through his hair and peered around. Padded quietly toward the bedroom door at the other end of the room.

 

Dean and Sam’s door was shut and he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from beyond it. “Wusses.” Still only half awake, he wheeled and headed toward his bathroom and the shower. 

 

The shower. The Shower. Highlighted and Underscored. A shower that combined enough hot water and good water pressure defined luxury to the rugged hunter. A shower tiled with travertine and big enough for two or three people -John thought about Sam and Dean christening their shower, which, he knew, was the mirror image of his, and grinned-equaled nirvana. Standing still under the staccato beat of the shower head’s Pulse setting, John let his mind wade through its memories of what had happened those last few minutes at Bonnie and Hal’s. 

 

He’d logged most of what he remembered in his Journal, but standing there in the burning, all encompassing heat of a shower with “enough” hot water, he let his mind drift and open up to possibilities. 

 

Whatever it was, it hadn’t been evil – he knew that. It had been music, plain and simple -still that _green_ sound. What did Sam mean that he hadn’t played anything on the way up to Breckenridge? Like a paleontologist examining a new dig site, John tried to piece together what might be happening. 

 

He came up empty handed. He’d talked to Jim briefly and left a message for Daniel. The ten minutes he’d spent on the phone with Bobby had been more than enough to get Bobby researching. Something was up, but John needed information, something to work with. 

 

Whatever it was, apart from originating in something other than darkness or evil, it was immensely strong, powerful enough to drag him under, to – 

 

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the change in the air around him. Subsonic at first, so low on the register that his body didn’t feel it, _something_ , pulsed steadily from the fingers of his right hand, slowly up his arm, more rapidly across his shoulders to his other arm and hand and

 

“Oh crap, not again!” John groaned as he felt his cock fill with blood, stiff and aching in ten seconds.

 

_Well, that’s a new reaction to the prospect of a hand job,_ part of his mind commented, even as he palmed the head of his swollen dick. He traced the rim of it with one finger before he stroked the vein down the length of his shaft and rolled his sac gently between two fingers. The burn of orgasm lurked close, but he held it off, sliding his fingers down past his balls and spreading his legs apart, just as a lover would. The skin of his ass began to tingle and he returned his hand slowly between his legs, up and around his shaft before letting his dick bob forward while he stroked his ass cheeks with just the tips of his fingers. He craved that light touch, imagining someone else there, wanting other fingers to penetrate him, forgetting that he was pretending and giving his own hand free rein to tease himself and, not too carefully, to enter.

 

The fast, deep intrusion of his own fingers startled him. His knees wobbled and he stumbled forward against the shower wall, rubbing his cock against the cold wetness while two fingers fucked him as deep as he could force them. Not feeling them, feeling something else. 

 

Something that throbbed like his own dick was pulsing, that filled him and hit his prostate when he knew his fingers couldn’t-something-and not an imaginary person’s dick. Helpless to stop, he forced himself down onto his fingers and groaned as sensation tore through him. Eyes screwed shut, panting, he strained down, feeling the pulsing of -his eyes opened slowly and a frown creased his forehead before he fell back into the rhythm, pushing deeper, breath shallow as he neared his climax. Confused by the sensation that beat its driving rhythm around him, not just into him.

 

Then, in one motion, his entire world spun in and then out again. What-something else, more. Other. Vast. Humping against the cold stone, confused, ready to come, he squeezed his eyes shut and, almost in spite of himself, lured by a need that he couldn’t describe, pulled his fingers free of himself. Scrabbling his right hand along the wall, he reached so far that the skin on his fingertips felt split. Something-there – damn! Gonna come. No! He sobbed and groaned, a choked, labored sound. His left hand pumped his cock as he struggled toward whatever was reaching for him- _come closer. You can do it. More!_ Frantic with the need for release and the need to touch whatever it was that struggled to reach him, he felt the skin of his cock sliding under his fingers. Each and every nerve singing with need. Reaching, cock swollen and utterly hard under his left hand, fire starting deep in and then racing around the head. _Too much-too-Oh Crap!_ ” he growled.

 

John came so hard he couldn’t keep his feet, sliding down, forehead against the wall of the shower, sobbing gasps of air, trying to stay conscious. Hanging on by the faintest margin. Whatever it was slipped back away sobbing, too. Two or three minutes later, he opened his eyes a crack and spidered his fingers up the wall, grabbed at first one and then the second faucet and, for the most part, turned off the shower. Soaking wet, shivering and shuddering, sagged against the wall again, hauling air into his lungs. 

 

2

 

_Not alone._

_Not enough._

_But it will have to do._

 

 

3

 

“….d? Dad? Damnit, Dad, answer me!!!” 

 

“Huh?” Blearily, John opened his eyelids a fraction and frowned. He stared directly into a wall…the shower wall? “Wha-” Sammy was shouting. What the hell was he shouting about? 

 

“Dad, either answer me or I’m picking this damn lock!” Sam listened for two seconds, then hammered on the bathroom door for the umpteenth time: John opened his mouth and tried for sound. Nothing. “C’mon” he growled mentally. Coughed to clear his throat. “Yeah-Sam” _Damn, Winchester, you sound like crap._ He tried again. “I’m fine Sam. Calm the heck down, willya? I’m coming out!” 

 

Dazed, John stared blankly around himself. Craned his neck up squinting at the dripping shower head, then looking down at his dick where it rested innocently against his pubic hair. Recollection had begun to flood back. He had heard something-someone crying. That was it-crying-and he’d tried to -deep in thought, he glanced over in the direction that his hand had reached. Yeah, he remembered that much. His fingertips felt like they’d been stomped on: wonderingly, he examined them. They were bruised deep purple.

 

On his natural gun hand. _Just freakin’ dandy-_

 

“What the hell?” he repeated to himself. He didn’t risk shaking his head to clear it. Flopping back flat to the stone tiled floor of the shower wasn’t a good idea. For just a moment, he thought about how anyone other than a Hunter would be reacting to what had happened. It wasn’t particularly funny, he supposed, but he had to smile, anyway.

 

Dean had ignored the first couple of times Sam had pounded on the bathroom door. It sounded like a typical John/Sam exchange. Sam shouted: John shouted back. But when the hammering continued and edged toward frantic, he decided to check things out. 

 

He came to a stop beside Sam, who stood stock still, trying to hear his dad. John’s reply had done nothing to calm Sam’s concern. He glanced down at Dean, who shot a questioning look back at him.

 

“Dad, if you don’t come out here in the next thirty seconds, I’m coming in there. Dean? Get the lock picks! Now!” He glared at Dean and nodded sharply toward the gear in their bedroom. Grumbling about Sam’s failure to keep the picks in his jeans’ pocket, Dean stomped away to locate them. 

 

“Sammy, I’m coming out! Just quiet down!” John snapped, relieved to hear that he sounded more like himself. Experimenting, he levered himself to his feet and stepped away from the wall of the shower, hand out for balance. The entire room tilted once and then settled down. There. At least he wouldn’t fall over trying to take a step.

 

Left handed, because his right hand hurt too much to use, he reached for the dark crimson bath sheet hanging over the towel rod behind him. Then walking with the creeping, caution of the terminally hung over or eternally dizzy, he left the bathroom. And ran right into Sam.

 

“Dad, we’re not going out to dinner tonight. You look like hell. Do you want to end up in that clinic in whatever that town is? Do you?”

 

_Do I look that bad?_ Startled, John frowned up at his son.

 

“That town” is Frisco. And, no I don’t want to end up there, Sam.” John knew that his gut reaction to anything Sammy said in that tone of voice was to argue. _He’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but he’s right. It’s only dinner, and I’d just as soon be awake enough to remember eating it. I’m going to have to agree with him – I’ll never hear the end of it. And he knows, smartass that he is. Get it over with, Winchester._

 

“Sam, you might be-” he started. The sentence died mid-word. He remembered that someone had been crying. He’d clearly heard that. Staying at the cabin wasn’t an option. 

 

John did his best to sound businesslike and in control. “We’re going. We just won’t stay out late. You guys are driving, remember?” _He’s not listening. Mother hen. I can handle being awake a few more hours_. He knew he sounded like someone placating a tantrum-bound three year old but he added, “Now, go on, Sam. Get ready. I’m fine.” 

 

Of course, Sam, being Sam, refused to budge. So John pulled out the ultimate persuasion device: the Eyebrow of Doom. His left eyebrow arched toward his hairline and he stared straight into Sam’s eyes. Smothered a smug smile when Sam turned and stomped toward his and Dean’s room snarling something that sounded suspiciously like “Know-it-all parents “. 

 

“Dean!” Dean winced at the sound of his name. However, reminding himself firmly that he loved Sam beyond everything, no matter how whiny he might be, he glanced up and firmly schooled his mouth not to twitch into a grin. Sam looked at least ten steps past thunderous: Dad’s world record in the Pissing Off Sammy Olympics remained intact. Now to calm down the looming explosion.

 

“Dean, Dad still wants to go to supper. Dude, I don’t think we should. He looks like hell! We should stay here.”

 

“I, on the other hand, knowing our father, want to live for another day. Therefore, Samuel, we go to dinner.” Dean replied calmly. His eyes, however, narrowed in concern. His dad had been acting strangely for weeks, but the last couple of days had been unreal. Speculation later, though. He had Sam to calm down at the moment.

 

“Sure-side with him! Damnit, Dean-” Dean nodded and sighed, reached out for Sam’s hand.

 

“Sam, he’s made up his mind. So we go along and come back home with him when he falls asleep face first in his prime rib.” Holding back a chuckle, Dean winked at Sam. “Now get over here.” Sam’s yawn led the way as his brother toppled onto the bed and turned over to look sleepily up at him. Dean reflected for the three millionth time that he was about the most fortunate man on the planet. He had Sam and didn’t need anything else. Gently tracing the line of Sam’s cheek with a fingertip, he murmured, “It’s a good thing I’m drivin’. You’re already …” his voice softened even more as Sam’s eyelids drooped, “falling back to sleep.”

 

He leaned over and kissed Sam’s forehead. The look in Dean’s eyes when he glanced back up was serious. He wanted to think and Sammy catching something in the neighborhood of rwenty-seven winks, while their Dad shaved and pulled on some clothes gave him time. 

 

His dad’s insistence on going to dinner concerned Dean far more than a lot of other things might have. In all their years on the road, Dean could not remember having an expensive dinner: John’s inborn thriftiness coupled with their lifestyle dictated other, better uses for money. His dad looked a lot worse than mere hell, hadn’t slept well in weeks, and Dean was beyond worried. However, unlike Sam, he had long since learned that a frontal attack never worked with John. Conniving often did: conniving they would do.

 

Worst of all, to Dean’s way of thinking, was the fact that all three Winchesters had lost the focus that they should have had on the hunt over in Copper Mountain.

 

“I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours, John Winchester,” Dean muttered. Beside him, Sam nuzzled a little closer, obviously ready for several hours of deep sleep. 

 

****

 

With a start, Dean sat up: a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told him that he’d drifted off for a few minutes as well. Regretting the necessity, Dean roused his brother.

 

“Sammy? Baby, c’mon. Time to wake up-c’mon-” he murmured, the gentle, cajoling tone of his voice one that only Sam ever heard. One sleepy hazel eye appeared as Sam squinted his eyelid open. “C’mon, Sammy. That’s it-both eyes-”

 

“Tired-Just a few more minutes…” 

 

“You can sleep later. A lot later.” Dean chuckled and winked down at Sam. “Pull yourself into vertical. Up!”

 

“Ummm…” Sam leaned up and Dean kissed him gently. “I’m awake…”

 

“Uh huh-sure-I believe that.”

 

“I am!” 

 

“And the yawn with the shouting convinced me completely. Uh-huh, yup, it sure did. Get ready – shit, Dad! How long have you been there?”

 

“Long enough.” John didn’t sound particularly upset. If anything, Dean thought, his dad sounded-sad. The moment passed and John barked: “C’mon, you two. Time to get into the car and head downtown. It’s already 6:30.”

 

“And they won’t hold the reservation if we’re two minutes late?” Dean snorted. “Plus which, we ain’t more than fifteen minutes from the restaurant. Hell, we aren’t more than fifteen minutes from any place in Breckenridge.” 

“That isn’t the point.” John grumbled in his second most threatening tone. The worst tone he saved for out and out intimidation. Dean shrugged, ran a tickling, gentle finger down Sam’s side and stood up.

 

“Hey, dad, you clean up pretty well for an old guy.” Dean made the observation in passing and grinned up at John, who still frowned threateningly. But all he said was, “Hmmph. Wear jackets. It’s cold here at night.”

 

“Hmmm-9600 feet above sea level. Yeah, that might be cold after dark. Not that I ever thought of that myself.” Dean muttered, having long since given up on convincing his father not to natter. 

 

“Dad, are you wearing after shave?” Sam asked.

 

“I always do. After I shave, that is.”

 

“OOOkay then! Old Spice, the choice of hunters everywhere.”

 

“It’s a classic!”

 

“As are you.” Sam agreed smoothly. He avoided the swat that John aimed at the back of his head and ran his fingers through his own wild brown hair to comb it. “C’mon, guys. Time to go and eat.”

 

“Dad, you sure you don’t want to drive?”

 

“No, Dean. I’ll just sit in the back seat.”

 

“Just as long as all you do _is_ sit. We’re going less than two miles. Look at the scenery or something.” Dean didn’t waste breath on the niceties. If he had to navigate the treacherous waters between Sam in the front seat snapping at every comment John made from the back seat, he wasn’t going to increase the risk by polite requests.

 

Grumbling, John clambered into the back seat. Sam took his place at shotgun, reached toward Dean to hold his free hand and, for a second, hesitated. Suddenly, a smile washed across his face, and he tapped the back of Dean’s hand. Surprised initially, Dean remembered what John had told them earlier, figured that hand holding fell into the “take care of each other” category and, after he’d started the Impala, he wrapped his right hand around Sam’s left.

 

Going carefully, because the Impala’s carburetion system needed tweaking to work well above 8000 feet, Dean headed the Impala toward downtown Breckenridge. Behind Sam, John watched out the window, not thinking much, just looking at what had changed over the previous few years since his most recent visit to “the home of the last mountain men”. 

 

Quite literally, Breckenridge was down town: they dropped one hundred and two feet vertically between the cabin and the first street light. 

 

“Big city,” Sam noted, just a tad facetiously. “Two stop lights?”

 

“Hal told me that when the first light went in, years ago, there was a trial period for people to get used to it.” John noted distantly. “Turn right, Dean. That’s the Briar.”

 

Sam and Dean looked suspiciously at the weather beaten exterior of the White Briar. It might have originally been barn red, but time had faded the paint to something like an off pinkish purple. A single sign over the door confirmed its name. A copy of the menu had been taped to the inside of the scrupulously clean thirty-paned window to the right of the door.

 

For his part, Dean stared up and down the short blocks of Lincoln Avenue and frowned.

 

“Is there parking around here? I don’t want some drunk tourist banging a quarter panel.” 

 

“Since we’re long time residents Breckenridge,” Sam jibed. 

 

“Sammy-” Dean warned, trying really hard to frown, failing abjectly in the face of his lover’s wistful eyes and purposely adoring smile. “You flutter those eyelashes and I’m locking you in the trunk.”

 

“Try down at the corner. If the lot is still there, it’s right across from the old county offices.” John advised. Abruptly, he sat up in his seat. There, off above and beyond him: he could hear it again. The same music: green and sparkling gold. But it sounded different, more serious, deeper. John had not one clue what it meant or was, but he still sensed no evil there. Just music. 

 

Dean managed to find a spot near the back of the tiny parking lot that was large enough for the Impala to be comfortable. He strode around the front of the car and opened the car door for Sam, who rolled his eyes as he unfolded from the seat. “I can open my own door, Dean.”

 

“I know. Just wanted to show you I have manners.”

 

“Uh hum-“Sam captured Dean’s hand again and squeezed it gently. Silently telling him he loved him. Caught up in the moment, they didn’t notice the conspicuous absence of any comments from John. 

 

Although low season had technically started, a lively group of noisy patrons seemed to be having a great time trying to deafen each other.

 

“Here’s hoping we can hear ourselves think once we’re in there.” Sam looked at Dean from his spot behind John’s back. Eyebrows knit, he nodded toward John and pointed to Dean. Irritated, Dean sighed and, cautiously, asked “Dad, you okay?” 

 

“Yes, Sam, I’m okay…” John replied, glancing back at Sam before his younger son could feign innocence. “Yes, Dean. I’m okay.”

 

He wasn’t. Between “Dean” and “I’m”, a feeling like little flickers of electricity had skittered across his mind, little warning prickles. He casually checked to make sure that his G-30 rested against the small of his back. Dean caught the move but said nothing. He’d already double checked his Colt. And the knife in his forearm sheath. A glance toward Sam resulted in a short nod from his brother. Between one breath and the next, they had become Hunters. “Let’s get in there before someone takes our table,” John prodded.

 

Hungry hunters.

 

****

 

Something hit him as he took his first step into the restaurant. For a few seconds, he wondered if he was going to blackout: the sounds in the room went muted, as if his ears had stopped up. Flustered, although hell would have frozen over before he’d ever admit to it, John took a deep breath and scrambled mentally to figure out what had happened. _Altitude. That’s all this is._ He yawned and cracked his eardrums as well as he could, relieved when he heard the noises return to normal volumes. 

 

Then, out of nowhere, something grabbed him. Not someone. Some Thing. Something that sang and keened and enfolded him like a cat weaves around legs when looking for affection. “What the-damn it!” he hissed, stumbling over something that wasn’t there. And, what was worse, SomeThing that didn’t feel like anything supernatural that he’d ever encountered. He’d heard the sound before. _Green_ -he puzzled, glancing down. _How can a sound be green? Stop tripping me up, you!_ Obediently, the thing-that-wasn’t-there untangled itself from around John’s ankles. _Better. Now-now stay back! Got it?_ The song softened fractionally.

 

John caught a glimpse of abrupt motion out of the corner of his eye, just as a glacially unruffled maitre d’ stopped in front of them.

 

“Sir, do you have reservations?” Absently, John mulled the thought that _only_ in Breckenridge, Colorado, could a restaurant have both a raucous bar as well as a dining room with linen tablecloths and crystal glassware. Not to mention a maitre d’.

 

“Yes. Seven o’clock. Winchester.” John was forced to raise his voice a bit to make himself heard. 

 

Someone moved.

 

It was just a little twitch. He almost missed it, because he’d been butted in the ankle by that overeager invisible green song with delusions of feline-hood. Exasperated, he snapped _Stop it!_ the mental command as forceful as a spoken one. Once again, he felt the critter retreat to a point behind his feet. _Stay there._

 

John cast a rapid glance toward the bar, scanning for whatever had piqued his attention. A bar tender, somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties, mopped up a spilled mug of beer at the far end of the bar. Too far away, John realized. Two guys who were obviously regulars, chatting with one of the waitresses, not cruising for some action, were turned toward the back door. Not them. A twosome, she taller than he, both of them up for the day from someplace more civilized, if their matching jackets and carefully scuffed Wranglers were any indication: not them. 

 

The near end of the bar; the flicker of activity had originated there. Three guys leaned against the bar, two tall miners down from their claim, maybe? No, not that. Weekend wannabes? Not that either-something in between. _Bobbsey Twins_ Both wore scuffed up leather jackets that had seen better days; both had on jeans in equally bad condition. John had no idea where the words Bobbsey Twins had come from. But that’s what stuck in his mind. Although one was blond and one had graying hair, the lean lines and watchful stares they gave the room were nearly identical. 

 

In between the two men stood a third. John didn’t stare beyond a two second glance, but what he saw left him thunderstruck. Because, but for a few years’ difference and some scars on his neck and chin that the other man didn’t have, John Winchester looked at himself. Battled not to gape into eyes as sable as his, not to say a word, and definitely not to move quickly because he didn’t want attention drawn to either himself or his twin. As he looked away, however, he saw the shaking hands that gripped the guy’s bottle of Coors.

 

Bobbsey Twins. John never really questioned his instincts, especially if the situation might be dangerous. _Bobbsey Twins-two sets then- who else?_

 

His invisible shadow returned and tugged more tightly around him, warm and then cool, singing softly. _Just what I need,_ the Hunter grumbled, _a cheering section. Okay, whatever you are. I know what I’m doing._ Once again, the little whatever it was quieted.

 

“Is this table acceptable?” 

 

“No. That one.” John countered. The table he’d selected offered both a direct view of the bar and a reflected view of anyone entering by the front door. John knew that the large mirror hanging at an angle over the bar had been placed there to allow servers and the bar tender a quick glance at patrons no matter where they might be in the lower floor. 

 

“Boys, I have the window side.” John grunted.

 

“Dad, you always, and I mean always, take the wall. Are you-” Sam took one look at John’s face and let his question lapse.

 

“Sammy, you ask me one more time if I’m okay, I’m going to eat alone. Are we clear?” John’s tone brooked no argument.

 

Sam let Dean pull out his chair, blushing in embarrassment as he sat. “Dean, can you put a lid on all the romantic gestures?” John sighed. “Just because I know about you two doesn’t mean I need to risk a sugar buzz every time I turn around.” 

 

“Yessir, no sugar buzzes.” Dean replied soberly, although the corner of his mouth twitched as he clamped down firmly on the laughter that bubbled up inside him. Gentled a finger down the side of Sam’s neck and felt his brother lean into it.

 

Meanwhile, John had hung his coat over the back of his chair, swung a leg over and sat down smoothly, taking in the layout of the restaurant and scanning people at the bar as he did so. Saw the second set of Bobbsey Twins immediately.

 

Slightly less scruffy than the first two, the second pair of men had taken positions at the near, short end of the bar. Just about the same height as their pals, they had a bit more weight on their bones and, to John’s practiced eye, the fat, happy-cat look of people who enjoyed hurting other people. The fact that both men took turns staring at the smaller and obviously frightened fifth man made John’s blood boil, red and then white hot.

 

Dean had given what he could see of the first floor a quick once over, acting (and well, he thought to himself, smugly) like an excited tourist just staring at everything. Sam caught the view of the back of the White Briar and nodded to his brother that the rear doorway was clear. 

 

John looked up, caught sight of his stranger-twin glancing cautiously his way and examined the menu rather than return the stare. Middle Guy had better understand that he was being watched hard by his-whatever they were. By the time John had read the menu once, he’d also figured that the window behind him was the only feasible exit other than the doors. He’d assessed most of the people in the restaurant and identified precisely where other-John stood in terms of access. 

 

“Dad?” Dean tapped John’s menu and nodded toward the waiter.

 

“Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Water and a-” a quick glance at the other man- “Coors.” 

 

“Yes sir. One Coors, one Walker on ice, one Pepsi.”

 

“Dad, you think Coors tastes like weak piss!” Dean hissed. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“When in Colorado...” John dismissed Dean’s surprise and returned to his rapt study of the menu, all the while listening to the people around him, visualizing the quickest way across the restaurant to the bar.

 

He shifted in his seat for the third time in as many minutes. And, once he paid attention to what he was doing, he realized that he couldn’t keep still. Green gold deep song deep and rumbling, whatever it was butted his ass, trying to force him out of his chair. As he had earlier, he aimed a sharp mental _Let me handle this! Stop the damn shoving!_ at his musical invisible shadow. Grunted the Winchester equivalent of a chuckle when it pulled away again, tugging once at his boot top before John repeated his thought, with a lot more force. _Okay, now I’m ordering imaginary critters around. Wonderful._

 

“So, Dad, you gonna tell us how you met Hal and Bonnie?” Dean asked, speaking quietly but in a voice that carried well under the currents of conversation. He felt Sam’s shoe working up his shin and smiled at the tall, lanky man he loved with his entire heart, body and soul. Sam winked back and they lost track of everything but each other, enjoying being able to flirt and relax and just be together. 

 

John knew what Dean was doing: he’d used the same distraction tactics himself over the years. To buy some time for more thought, he replied, knowing that Dean and Sam weren’t really hearing him. 

 

“Pretty simple…it was a salt and burn at Dillon Reservoir, along the North Edge. The original town of Dillon was submerged when the reservoir was created back in the early ‘60s, something like ’62 or ’63. A lot of other things were submerged, too, including the original resting places of some pretty powerful – and angry – spirits of the deceased folks of Dillon. 

 

“Oh, I know, the good fathers of the town moved the burial ground, but there were some spirits that didn’t want to move along with their coffins. And they’ve haunted the reservoir ever since. The worst of it happened five or six years ago: there were three drownings in two weeks. People thought it was time to call in help, and not the police. They hadn’t solved anything anyway. That’s when I met Hal and Bonnie.” 

 

While he explained the story of Hal’s great grandmother and her complete refusal to leave the land where she’d been laid to rest, John watched intently the four men plus one who lounged at the bar. 

 

All of the men drank quietly, not raising their voices, but everything about them read off. Their stances just a shade too stiff, their attention divided among the door, the bar tender, and Middle Guy. They were definitely waiting for someone: each new arrival off the street received intense scrutiny before being dismissed from consideration. 

 

The look-alike darted timid glances to his left and to his right, then lifted his beer and tilted it an inch in John’s direction. He immediately lowered his gaze again and took a swallow. Waiting until he glanced up again, John returned the motion and looked away before anyone near Middle Guy could register the communication. 

 

Eyes narrowed, the hunter watched more closely as one of two guys at the end of the bar eased down next to his pal and nudged the guy to his left, whispered something, shook his head and cocked it ever so slightly toward the guy in the middle. And smiled, the greed and darkness in his expression ugly. John felt his anger bolt up again and repressed it sternly. 

 

He casually panned a stare around the bar when he realized that he’d been staring at the five men for much too long. When he glanced back up, he saw that one of the taller Bobbseys had taken out a cell phone and begun talking into it. Middle Guy went as motionless as a rabbit being circled by a coyote. _No more time. This happens now_.

 

Adroitly avoiding the incoming waiter, he stood and stepped behind Dean’s chair. “Be ready. I’m going in.” Without question, both of his sons nodded and went on alert, although John knew they didn’t have any idea what he was doing. Dean gaped at the face of the Middle Guy. “Sam, when you can, look at who Dad’s walkin’ over to. Just don’t be obvious.”

 

Around John, the noises faded as he brought his focus tight on the group now five steps away from him. “Hey! Good to see you again!” he called to other-him, smiling jovially, right hand extended to shake his – and pull him clear if he needed to. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure until a second ago! Man, it’s been at least fifteen years! The boys are here. C’mon over and say hello! They haven’t seen you since-wait, I think it was right after Sam turned five! Hell, it’s been more like seventeen years!”

 

To his utter relief, he saw that other-him understood what he planned and slipped into character, his smile of recognition almost perfect. His lips moved one time. A name. John blinked understanding while he continued his chatter. Brushing slightly against the nearest Bobbsey – and checking for weapons – he breezed, “Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.”

 

”Who the hell are you?” The guy with the cell phone snapped his question, but John knew he’d looked at both himself and other and had seen the resemblance. In turn, John could have sworn there was a family resemblance among all four Bobbseys, if Mean and Ugly was a family. 

 

“Who’s asking?” John flicked on a smile, but his eyes glinted like splintered glass in the sunlight. His temper seethed and roiled, and he stamped it down firmly, deciding to wonder later about what the deuce was happening to his control.

 

“None of your business. What do you think you’re doin’? “

 

“Saying hello to Jeff.” John didn’t twitch, even though he wasn’t 100 percent certain of the man’s name. If he’d guessed wrong, his Glock and Dean and Sam as backup would have to be enough. 

 

Four seconds ticked by before flank-guy nodded abruptly.

 

“Okay. You’ve said hello. Now-“

 

“And just who are you? His boyfriend or something?” John asked, smoothly establishing control of the situation. Knowing after a glance that none of the four had the brains to think of a quick response that wouldn’t get them into trouble with someone who, from his appearance, could really be a relative of their captive. Although the sable eyes in front of John widened a bit, Jeff didn’t show any other signs of surprise. 

 

“Jeff’s with us.”

 

John kept a smile on his face, although the anger in his gut roiled at the blatant lie. “Now, guys, I don’t think that that’s even close to being true. Right? Jeff? Are you with these people?” 

 

John took one look at the way everyone’s shoulders set and realized that Jeff had at least one weapon trained on him. From Jeff’s left side, then. He needed something to further distract whoever had the gun on Jeff. The chances were that the gunman wouldn’t try anything in a crowded bar, but John wanted better odds than that. Without giving any evidence of what he was thinking, he willed the other man to suck it up and say-

 

“No.” Spoken quietly and directly to John in a voice full of pain and desperation. And look of absolute trust on the thin, bruised face. 

 

The shock of Jeff’s answer threw the men around him for the second it took to step between Jeff and the three men on his left. The guy closest to Jeff was carrying the gun: John didn’t bat an eye, just made sure that he stayed between Jeff and the weapon, counting heavily on his supposition that the men had been waiting for someone else, the person who had hired them or who controlled them, to arrive and that they had been told to keep Jeff in one piece. “Dean and Sam want to say Hi. They’re right over at the table. Would you believe that Sam’s taller than I am? C’mon.” He nodded toward his sons, just in case Jeff hadn’t seen them earlier. And to let the Bobbseys know he had backup. 

 

“Jeff, who is this guy?” The sole Mean and Ugly to Jeff’s right snarled the question.

 

“John Winchester.” John grinned at Jeff, who seemed ready to collapse at any second. “He’s John Winchester.” His eyes had gone wide and he began to shudder. Shock – John knew that. Determined to get the man out of danger, he clapped Jeff on his shoulder and swallowed the curse that surged up when he felt bones right under the skin. Forcing himself to stay focused on Jeff, he gently pushed at the younger man’s shoulder, guiding him forward and away.

 

“C’mon, Jeff. Let’s have a drink and some supper. We have a lot of catching up to do, man.”

 

Over his shoulder - _one step-_ , he addressed the four men who stood looking like they’d been pole axed. “Boys, I’ll take it from here.” _Two steps._

 

“Hey!” One more step, and Jeff had cleared half the distance between John and the table at which Dean and Sam sat. “You get back here.” The words spoken low and dark. “Mister-“

 

John wheeled back to face the four, his expression stern and cold enough to make much braver men than those take a step backward. “I said I have it from here.” Lowering his voice, he added “And, if you’re smart, you’ll get the hell out of this bar. Now.” 

 

“Watch your back, asshole! “ John didn’t even bother to identify which of the four had spoken. He lifted his top lip and snarled, eyes slitted nearly shut. For a few seconds, he battled with a wild urge to murder them where they stood. The rage he felt scared the hell out of him, but he mastered the anger slamming it down where it wouldn’t distract him. Then, silent as death itself, he turned and stalked away, as the four guys departed the restaurant in a cloud of thumping steps and mumbled curses.


	5. Chapter 4

Even when he’d begun to wobble forward, John Winchester’s - _John Winchester. He’s John Winchester_ \- broad hand sliding from his shoulder down his arm to his lower back, gently pushing him away from them, Jeff couldn’t think. 

 

Walking hurt, breathing hurt, everything, everything _hurt_. 

 

Two steps. An inrush of noise, sounds of people eating and drinking, and, from the bar, calling out to friends. Confusion. Three steps. The reassurance of John’s hand on him disappeared when John turned to face the four. Jeff couldn’t figure out where to go. Marooned in a noisy sea of sound and light, he wavered, uncertain where safety lay. Abandoned by John- _John wouldn’t abandon you! Stop emoting-_ he tried to decide what to do. Couldn’t think and the noise hurt his ears. Jeff’s breath started to tighten. 

 

“Excuse me, sir.” The voice belonged to a harried server bound for a recently vacated table, silver and glassware clattering precariously on a tray he held in front of himself. Startled, Jeff stumbled around in a half turn, looking for John. The room wheeled in much slower motion and Jeff came to a full stop, dizzy. _What the hell do-it’s ‘n’illusion-not --imag’ning-but I thought-Where is -_ Half thoughts, disjointed and chaotic swept through his mind. He couldn’t focus on anything but the name. John John John and John again.

 

_Why can’t I say his name? Because he isn’t here? Dying? Am I? Did they shoot me? I didn’t hear it-is that what this is? Why can’t I say his name?”_ His hands clenched into fists and he screwed his eyes shut to focus and ended up losing his balance again. _John!_

 

Sam had started out of his seat at the same time Jeff stumbled to a stop, but Dean put out a hand and kept him from moving. “Let Dad handle this, Sam.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Look at his lips. What name is that?”

 

“Holy crap. John. Dude, do we know this guy?”

 

“Other than the fact that he’s a younger version of Dad? Nope. Dad doesn’t have any younger brothers. Shit! Wait. Dad’s coming.” Nerves singing with worry, Dean kept Jeff in his sight as if that alone could keep the man on his feet.

 

Jeff heard footsteps and flinched away. Until a gentle, quiet “Jeff.” reached him. Terrified he might be hallucinating, he nonetheless dragged his gaze from the floor toward the sound of his name. _“John”_ he mouthed.

 

 

Two seconds later and John Winchester’s left arm had settled around Jeff’s waist. “Jeff.” _(Keep it simple, Winchester. He’s gonna faint if anything else happens. Are those his_ ribs? _Those bastards!_ ) John’s fingers slid over the lower part of Jeff’s boney ribcage and across the top of his hip. Inwardly furious at the stark evidence of abuse, he nonetheless maintained absolute outward calm when he spoke to the shivering, half starved man. The appearance wasn’t enough. Jeff pulled back and stood wide eyed, uncertain. “Jeff, I’m sorry. You’re hurt and it makes me angry. But not at you. Not at you.” Gentle, he reached back out and touched Jeff’s waist again. Jeff colted a step forward and leaned into John’s arm around him.

 

“Let’s get you into a chair, Jeff. Son?” directed to Sam. “Toss me my jacket, willya? Jeff, this is-”

 

“S..m Wnchstr” Jeff croaked. _Great work, Jeff. Helpless? No not_ me!

 

In the silence that greeted his words, Jeff shifted his gaze to the left. _C’mon. Say the name!_ “De…Wnchester.” _Even better! Now I’m helpless and_ four.”

 

John cleared his throat and spoke as warmly as possible. “You’re right. I don’t know how you know, but that’s Dean and the giant is Sam.” Jeff nodded and threw himself off balance. Which hurt. The soles of his feet hurt. Damnit. 

 

Slowly, its tone deep and reassuring, greengold reached out to silverblue, gentle, strong and protective. Shy, ready to flee deep into Jeff’s subconscious, his colorsong ventured forward, its music tentative ,then more certain when goldgreen made no harmful move. 

 

“Jeff-Jeff, concentrate on me. That’s it. We’re going to get a jacket on you. Thanks, Sam. Let me do the work, okay?”

 

Mystified, Jeff gaped at John, and then down at the jacket John held in his right hand. John intended to give him his jacket? _I’m going to wear John’s jacket_. Dazed, Jeff gulped and peered back at John. Very gently, because he’d seen people on the edge of collapse before, John said, “Jeff, c’mon back and stay focused. That’s it. Now take your time.”

 

In spite of himself, Jeff winced when he tried to lift one arm to slide it into the jacket sleeve nearest him. _Damn, what did they do to him?_ “There. That should help warm you up.” John stared, increasingly concerned when Jeff slowly touched the front of the jacket and then looked dazedly back at him. “Jeff, you okay?” _Bright, Winchester_. 

 

“-warm…” The word slid all over the place as Jeff tried to control his shaking. Speaking as reassuringly and casually as possible, John agreed. “Yup. Warm. Safe. You’re safe now, Jeff. I swear it.“ As carefully as if he was handling china, John helped Jeff sit in the nearest empty chair, which happened to be Dean’s. 

 

Off to the side and behind the two older men, Sam frowned, perplexed, as he watched his father gentling Jeff’s fears away with just a few barely audible words. Not saying the longing that lived in each one. _But that’s what’s there. In his eyes. Stop staring, idiot!_ He had a feeling that, if he’d casually strolled around and glanced at Jeff, he’d that he’d see the same look in his eyes.

 

“Sammy, those guys aren’t just going to give up.” Dean leaned over and spoke quietly into Sam’s ear.

 

“I know that, Dean. And so does Dad. But right now,” Sam turned toward Dean, “Jeff’s the first priority.” Brow wrinkled in thought, he glanced again at John. _He might be the only priority._

 

Before he could say something to that effect, however, Sam spotted a pair of servers carrying suppers speeding toward their table. Sam grinned and said pointed at the food coming at them. Right before the server hit the fan.

 

Jeff hadn’t heard the first server approaching and lunged out of his chair when a plate appeared in front of him, over his left shoulder. In a demonstration of adroitness that would certainly have earned a gold in the Waitresses in Crowded Restaurants at Dinner Olympics, she pulled back, swung the plate in her hand high over her head and executed a flawless one hundred degree left turn, simultaneously moving the second plate out of harm’s way. Panicking, trying to react through layers of exhaustion and adrenaline, Jeff poised to run somewhere. Anywhere. Goldgreen tone softened and went deeper, calmer.

 

“Jeff. I need you to focus. Jeff? Focus on me.” John’s gaze never left Jeff’s eyes, wrapping quiet around Jeff’s fear.

 

_Focus. Focus on John_. “Hear,” he managed. Off on the outside corner of his right eye, the edges of the room had begun to sway. He shut his eyes and felt everything falling away from him. Absently, he wondered why he’d never known that gray was a sound, slid off his chair toward unconsciousness. This time, however, strong fingers wrapped around his forearm, pulling him back to the moment and into his chair simultaneously. 

 

“Jeff, stay with me. Open your eyes. I need you to stay with me.” John’s voice never changed pitch or tone. “Open your eyes. Jeff.” Talking quietly, not letting Jeff wander away. Obediently, Jeff forced his eyelids up, and John continued.

 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re runnin’ on fumes. Those morons that took you are gone somewhere out in the night, and we have time to refuel. If they were gonna cause trouble in here, they would have already.” John’s eyes glinted with humor as he glanced up at Sam. “Besides, if we don’t eat, Sammy’s going to keel over. And a 6’4” tall guy is noisy when he lands.”

 

“Bad…as…Jared…” Jeff murmured mostly to himself. _Jared, Jensen oh god they must have given up on me. How long have I been gone? I’m so tired._

 

“Jeff? Open your eyes; you need to stay awake.” Behind John’s question, under John’s question, through John’s question, greengold reaching out, gentling, calming the wild staggering beat of Jeff’s heart. 

 

“John-Winchester…you’re John, my John-” spoken quietly, between the two of them.

 

John nodded. “Your John.” The words came as naturally as breathing, and neither man questioned them. John carefully traced the fingertips of his right hand down the side of Jeff’s face and smiled. “Your John.”

 

 

From behind John, a new voice made itself heard. “Mister?” The word was spoken very tentatively: John had intimidated more people in the previous few minutes than the just the four kidnappers.

 

“Are you talking to Jeff?” John asked, voice stern as cold night; he shifted a bit in his seat, putting himself between Jeff and potential danger, right hand on Jeff’s left. Trembling with the effort, Jeff closed his fingers around John’s thumb and felt John squeeze his hand gently.

 

“No, sir. To you. I’m…I’m the bartender here…”

 

Dean glanced at John, saw the short jerk of his chin toward the barkeep and pulled the man aside to hear what he had to say.

 

Sam, on his own mission, headed toward the front door of the restaurant intent on taking a look outside just to see where the kidnappers had decided to wait for them once they had stomped out into the dark. He heard Dean’s “Be careful, Sam.” Glanced back to him and nodded. Held up three fingers: three minutes. No more. Dean nodded agreement.

 

Something was off precisely because nothing seemed off. The air outside the White Briar felt peaceful, and, when Sam listened for alien sounds in the night, he didn’t hear or sense anything. Curious, doubly cautious, he pulled his gun from the back of his waistband and worked along the East side of the building. At the back entrance to the bar, he looked for trouble. Didn’t find any sign of the four kidnappers. Puzzled, uncomfortable, he completed his circuit of the building, looked out into the night one more time from the doorway before he returned to the noise and warmth inside. Near the doorway to the dining room, he stopped when Dean nodded him over. 

 

“Dean?”

 

“Sam, this is Cal Wallis. Cal, this is Sammy.”

 

“Sam,” the barkeep said, and shook Sam’s hand.

 

“Like I was telling your –er-Dean here, this is the third night that those four brought this guy in. I haven’t ever seen ‘em before, and I generally see everyone that comes through this town, especially in off season. Those four would have stuck out anyway. Nasty bastards.

 

“The first night wasn’t too bad. They came in, ate, drank a beer and left. But I had a feeling. I dunno why, but I had one. That Jeff guy? He looked wrong, like he was in trouble. I tried talkin’ to him last night, and he wouldn’t answer. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but then I saw one of ‘em had a gun on him; I just got a glance at a muzzle under the guy’s parka, a parka, and that guy ,glancing toward Jeff, in a freakin’ windbreaker-.sorry. Like I said, I caught sight of the muzzle of the gun. Tried not to show it, because I don’t want any fireworks in a crowded restaurant.” Cal ran the fingers of his left hand through his thatch of black hair and frowned before he continued. “But the one short guy, the one that had all his fingers, saw that I’d seen it. The creep cornered me and told me he’d blow a hole in me and as many other people as he could if I tried to do anything to “mess up the deal”, whatever the hell that means. I backed off, and they left after they finished their drinks.

 

“I called the sheriff after they dragged him out, but I hadn’t seen what they drove up in, and, like I said, I didn’t know ‘em. I was hopin’ the sheriff ‘d show up tonight while they were here, but they came in later the other two nights. It’s way too early for him to patrol this part of town, even off season.” The frown on Cal’s face deepened and he looked again at the bruises on Jeff’s face and neck. “I think they beat him up because I tried to help.”

 

“You did what you could,” Sam replied quietly, glancing over at Jeff, who was occupied with wrestling a spoon toward his mouth. In spite of the gravity of the situation, he smiled a little and glanced at Dean, who shook his head ruefully, remembering.

 

The be-all and end-all of comfort foods in the Winchester cookbook and medical reference library, remained, of course, macaroni and cheese. However, baked potato came in a close second. John had smashed his own baked potato and loaded it with enough butter and sour cream -based calories to sink a battle cruiser. Jeff needed fuel and the potato was it, as far as John was concerned. Jeff appeared to feel the same way, about baked potato, at least. After four or five tentative attempts, he finally got the spoon together with the potato mush and, after a few seconds, with his mouth. 

 

Cal glanced over and shook his head. 

 

“He’s worse than last night; that much I know. I should have been able to do something else.” he muttered to them, openly frustrated and embarrassed at his failure to help Jeff.

 

“We’ll sort it out. Mr. Wallis. You have a restaurant full of people to worry about. You did the right thing.” Dean assured the man.

 

“Cal.”

 

“Cal. Thanks for telling us what you saw. If the sheriff comes in later, it’d help if you gave him the descriptions you remember of those guys. Not that I think that they’ll be around here much longer. If anything, they’ll come after us. And they’ll regret it if they do.” Dean’s concerns centered, as they always did, on the brother at his side. The same brother who sighed and smiled, knowing exactly what Dean was thinking and equally determined to protect his stubborn older brother’s ass, if he had to tie him down, with or without sex, to do it. 

 

 

John caught the spoon when Jeff let it drop. “Jeff?”

 

“Not-” _I’m not hungry. I don’t believe you’re here. This is a hallucination…they’re here and they’ll come in and I’ll be back in that car-that_ -

 

“Jeff. Listen to me. You’re safe. ”

 

“John. “

 

“John. Jeff, try a little more. Two forkfuls.” John leaned close to Jeff and kept his gaze focused solely on him. 

 

“Too-” _It’s too fucking heavy for me to lift. I’m a loser, a wimp, and it’s too fucking heavy for me to lift. And now I’m going to cry and_ that’s _going to go over so freakin’ well_.

 

“Hey now, “John chuffed. “Jeff, I can be, in case you didn’t know it, an idiot. I’m going to get the rest of this potato down you, so relax and enjoy it, because tomorrow you’re going to be forking in breakfast on your own.” 

 

John’s mock frowns intimidated most of the people he met. Surprisingly, Jeff didn’t seem to even see the expression. But, John figured, Jeff had seen an awful lot of weird stuff recently. His frowns didn’t even make the bottom of the chart.

 

Continuing to speak conversationally, he asked “D’you mind if I have a forkful? Hey! I did pretty well with the sour cream and butter, if I _do_ say so myself!” John caught a glimpse of a smile on Jeff’s face and kept up a one sided conversation as he fed Jeff the remainder of the potato and two or three bites of prime rib. Jeff had begun to both perk up over the food and grow impatient at being fed. _And here I go displaying some of my famous Winchester charm_ John thought. 

 

“Tell you what. I’m going to cut the rest of this up, and you can eat what you want. They gave us enough forks for the entire Marine Corps. I’m eatin’ too. A saint I’m not. Hungry, I am.” Jeff managed a huff of air that could be loosely construed as laughter, and John chuckled a little along with him.

 

 

Sam and Dean returned to the table, making plenty of noise so that neither man would be startled. Nevertheless, John tugged Jeff a little closer automatically. 

 

“Dad, there isn’t anyone outside. I mean no sign of those guys. They aren’t anywhere that I could see or hear or,well, see or hear them.” Sam sat down next to Dean, stared in wonder at the massive slice of wild salmon on his plate, and let his appetite take over. Grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, he chewed the first bite he cut, shut his eyes and sighed blissfully. “This is great salmon! Dean, how about the backstroking beef? Still alive enough for you?”

 

Dean, once the immediate danger had passed, had done what any sensible hunter would do when presented with a meal. He started eating, working his way methodically through a slab of prime rib that had only tiptoed into the heat of the kitchen’s ancient oven and back out onto Dean’s plate wearing Au Jus and just the faintest blush of pink away from the alarmingly red center.

 

“Hell yes! Dad, you it’s taken you years, but you’ve finally found a good place for dinner!”

 

“Thank you for the compliment, I think. Sam, you’re sure? Nothing out there?” John had caught the undertone in Sam’s voice and he cocked his head toward his son, waiting. 

 

“Nothing. Not even a shadow in the wrong place. But, “John watched Sam’s stare go distant and swallowed the remark he’d been about to make. “It felt like there was a hole where something or someone had been. Like,” he searched for a comparison. “Like when a scar heals over something. It’s the shape of what was there, but it’s blank. Something filling in a space. Not what usually is there. The presence of a lack of something. Does that make sense?”

 

John nodded shortly, eyes narrowed as he mulled over what Sam had said. Without thinking, he shifted in his chair, startling Jeff. Eyes glassy, breathing like he’d run a marathon, he lurched up and stared around. “I’m sorry, man?” Not a word: and the tension in Jeff’s grip didn’t fade. “Do you want some coffee? Water?” _Oh crap, of course he wants water, you idiot! High altitude, injured, starved, of course he wants water! And he was afraid to ask. Nice work, Winchester!_ “I’ll hold the glass. You get to do it on your own tomorrow.” Obediently, Jeff swallowed most of a glass of cold water and inched his chair closer to John’s. “Dean? Who do we know around here who can take the hunt at Copper?” 

 

To their credit, neither of his sons so much as twitched. “Bernie Dowd and his brother live in Nevada. They might be able to get over here. We could check with Bobby to see who he knows. What is it, Jeff? Are you okay?” Jeff nodded a little but didn’t say anything. “Do you know Bobby?” 

 

“Snr.” 

 

“Yeah! Do you know Bobby Singer?”

 

Jeff shook his head and pulled closer to John “It’s all right. We’re going to leave in a little while, all four of us. But we need to finish eating, give you a chance to rest a little bit, make sure we have the hunt covered. Will you be okay until we get done?” Jeff only looked up into John’s face. “I have an idea. Here’s what we’re going to do. Let me do the work, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, John carefully brought Jeff to his feet, held him around the waist with one arm and turned Jeff’s chair to 180 degrees so that, when Jeff sat back down, he sat alongside John, but facing him. “There. Don’t worry. There’s no one dangerous behind you, unless you count Dean and Sam.”

 

Jeff nodded soberly and John tried an encouraging smile. _At least I didn’t send him screaming in the other direction_. Five minutes later, he’d fallen asleep, left hand clenched around a handful of John’s flannel shirt. _Who are you, Jeff? What is all this?_

 

The talk turned professional as they discussed the merits of the Dowds and made a quick call to Bobby. Sam glanced at Jeff, then at his father and shook his head. No mention of Jeff, then. John’s glare underscored Sam’s assumption. Forty minutes later, supper and business taken care of, John stretched a little, careful not to jar Jeff, and spoke quietly to his sons.

 

“We need to get back to Bonnie and Hal’s. Dean, here’s some money. Get the bill paid, and we’ll head out. Sam, take another look outside. I’m not doubting you. I just don’t want any surprises.” John’s voice softened when he looked down at Jeff. “Jeff? C’mon. Time to wake up-don’t jump. It’s just me. John.”

 

From somewhere outside the pleasant cocoon of colorsound and warmth, a voice reached in to him. Something about waking up. John. He yawned, eyes squeezed shut, and nuzzled into John’s shirt, then yawned again and squinted his eyes open. “John.” The hunter’s heart thudded steadily under his hand and he smiled timidly up into the brown eyes so like his own. _John Winchester. He’s John._ John, who smiled back and gently stroked the side of Jeff’s face. For just a heartbeat, their lips hovered a hair’s breadth apart: John whispered, “Time to get moving.”

 

“You’re here?” Jeff murmured back, still not believing what was happening. He had to have lost his mind. But John nodded a fraction and their lips touched. Behind them and under them and between them, the color songs wove their way, Jeff’s fainter one cradled by John’s greenandgold. “Here,” John whispered as his eyes closed and he kissed Jeff more deeply. Jeff uttered a little, surprised squeak, and then sighed and returned the caress. Bluesilver melted toward greengold, secure. Even the touch of John’s tongue as it ventured across Jeff’s lips was soft and gentle. Jeff choked back a sob at the tenderness. John ended the caress a few seconds later, then kissed him again, lightly. Jeff opened his eyes when John repeated. “I’m here.” Disbelief shattered when he reached up and touched John’s chin with the tips of the fingers of his right hand. “Here.”

 

 

“Dad, we need to go. Dad?” Dean spoke quietly, not wanting to startle Jeff, or, for that matter, the stranger who was wearing his father’s skin. “Dad? We need to get Jeff someplace safer than here.” He waited until John looked up and nodded before heading toward the bar to pay the tab. 

 

“Your money’s no good here, Dean. And it won’t be good any time that you come back to the White Briar, no matter who’s tending bar. I’m glad you could do what I couldn’t.” Cal cleared his throat and nodded toward John and Jeff.

 

“Cal, you did the right things to keep a lot of people from dying. Thanks for taking care of the bill.”

 

“I just thought of something.” Cal grinned and strode to the utility closet off to the side of the rear door to the bar. A moment later, he returned carrying a large forest green ski jacket. “This’ll probably swim on your dad, but it’s better than nothing. It’s been in there for two years waiting for someone to claim it. Your dad might as well use it since his coat’s been, er, appropriated.”

“Thanks, again, man. “ Dean wheeled and avoided hitting Sam only because his brakes were even better than the Impala’s. “Hey! No knocking me down!”

 

“Knocking you down. Sure. Okaaay then. Six foot twelve inches versus my frail and puny six foot one. C’mon, I want to get you back and into bed.” Dean’s eyebrows arched and he squinted, imagination on the prowl down inside of Sam’s shirt and then his jeans. “To sleep, that is.” He tossed the jacket to Sam and strode to the front door to wait until everyone could leave together.

 

Dean didn’t have any words to describe what seemed to be happening to his father. His previously straight father had just kissed a man. Not only a man, but a stranger who just happened to look exactly like his dad. And there had been something else. Something that lingered just beyond the corner of Dean’s eye. 

 

“Dad? Dad-” Sam called quietly, not wanting to disturb Jeff any more than necessary. “Here’s a jacket you can use. C’mon. We need to get moving.”

 

“Moving…yeah-yes, we do. Jeff, no just stay right where you are. I’m getting into this coat and then we’ll go.” Anticipating Jeff’s reaction, John sat back down, facing him, speaking quietly. “We’re going to go out and walk to the parking lot. Okay, let’s get you on your feet.” Jeff braced against the dizziness that hit him and let John wrap an arm around him. “Jeff, are you okay to walk?”

 

“Not-carry…” _Damnit! I know what I want to say! Oh hell, of course I want you to carry me. My legs don’t work and my back hurts like a bitch and I don’t want those assholes to get me! But I will be triple damned if I’m going to let someone carry me anywhere_

 

As smoothly as if an entire conversation had actually taken place, Jeff nodded, then watched as John glanced toward Dean and Sam where they waited by the door. “Let’s go, boys. Jeff, you’re sure?” 

 

Jeff was injured, not brain dead: and he had figured out what John was saying without saying the actual words. Are you sure you’re all right to walk? Do you need to go to a hospital? I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.

 

He didn’t want to see any strangers, no doctors or nurses, no clinics or hospitals. John could look at his back and leg, maybe he could make the hurting stop, but no doctors. Who might not really be doctors. Who might really be working with his kidnappers. Or whoever had hired them. Who could grab him back and who might do John harm if he tried to stop them. 

 

Abruptly, he realized that he hadn’t answered John. “All right.” And received John’s smile in reply. 

 

“I’ll let that go for now. But we need to see what’s wrong. Back at Hal and Bonnie’s. we’re going to take a look. Just you and me. And Sam, if we need him.”

 

“Hal?”

“Hal and Bonnie. We’re staying at their place, in their guest cabin. It’s safe.” 

 

“You’re there?”

 

“I’m there. Time to go. It’s going to be cold.” John stepped behind Jeff, and turned him toward the door, holding tight to his hand. With a wave to Cal as they passed, the four left the noise and heat of the White Briar and entered the still, cold night.

 

“Imp…Impala?” Jeff asked John, teeth chattering in the chill. 

 

“How’d he know that?” Dean asked Sam quietly. 

 

“How did he know Dad’s name?” Sam answered, equally softly. “And ours?”

 

Jeff stumbled on a broken sidewalk paver and John caught him before he hit the ground. “Jeff, I know you want to do this on your own, but we need to move as fast as possible. Let me help you.”

 

Jeff’s nod overlapped John’s last word. Carefully, John wrapped his arm around the other man and half carried him toward the car. Jeff’s head drooped to John’s shoulder and the eldest Winchester pressed a light kiss to Jeff’s hair before speeding up his pace. 

 

Again, the brothers exchanged startled glances. Dean felt the word “Christo” bubbling up into his throat. He glanced over at Sam, who shook his head and murmured, “I have no idea.”

 

“Keep the holy water handy.”

 

“I just hope that’ll be enough. Maybe we should double the salt lines tonight.”

 

“He’ll be inside ‘em…”

 

“And so will Jeff.” Sam sighed. Dean winced and glanced over at his lover. “Just a little joke there. Honest.”

 

“Very little.” Dean grinned and reached over to slip his hand into the back pocket of Sam’s jeans, stroking the solid muscle through the denim as he did so. Their steps faltered and they stopped, stared long and deep into each other’s eyes. “I love you.” Dean rarely said that out loud, but Sam knew that the words were always just behind Dean’s eyes, behind every day talk. 

 

“I love you, too. Always have. Always will.” Sam could feel it, the shift in mood, the shift in time’s pace. He leaned over and kissed Dean, the caress full of promises, full of the vow he’d made to Dean on another night in his sixteenth year. Dean’s kiss echoed what Sam had notsaid with his. Dean kissed the hollow of Sam’s throat and felt him shiver and not from the cold. When he looked back up, Sam smiled conspiratorily down at him and did some ass grabbing of his own.

 

John’s low voiced, “Guys, let’s get Jeff someplace warm. Before lunch tomorrow.” reminded them where they were. Smiling, Dean rolled his eyes toward John and Jeff.

 

“Comin’, dad. Sammy…”

 

“Right with you, big brother.” 

 

 

Jeff sat where John had settled him, tucked against the passenger’s seat back door, staring forlornly around himself, looking at the backs of Dean and Sam’s necks. The minute John plunked down onto the other side of the seat and shut the door, Jeff leaned toward him, shaking. Before he could ask John anything, he found himself sitting in John’s lap and sheltered against the older man’s chest. “Just relax now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

 

“No such thing as safe,” Jeff whispered. “Not ever-” He squinted and peered fearfully over John’s shoulder at the darkness outside.

 

“Safe for now. You have my word.” John countered firmly enough that Jeff, convinced, nodded and shut his eyes. Gently, John smoothed Jeff’s hair back off his forehead, watching him. Just watching him rest. Safe. He pressed a gentle kiss to Jeff’s forehead and let his lips rest against the chilled skin, eyes shut, listening to Jeff breathe.


	6. Chapter 5

**

 

(THIRTY EIGHT YEARS AGO)

 

**Lucinda Graciela Larch**

 

Lucinda Graciela Larch turned fourteen on May 29th. 

 

She had asked for a day in the Renaissance Faire as her birthday present. The Renaissance Faire opened on July 4 weekend. And she was willing to wait until then to have her gift. 

 

She has also wanted to ask Cameron Willa Stephens, her best friend, to accompany her to the Faire. 

 

“We haven’t been to this one. It’s not stupid like the one down in the city.” 

 

Fourteen had obviously not improved Lucinda’s command of the wealth of words in the English language. “I know you want to go, Mom. But could you just-I don’t know- walk where we aren’t going?”

 

 

Because Lucinda Graciela Larch had turned fourteen and her parents had diminished in stature in her eyes. 

 

Reluctantly, and feeling a little at sea, because she had thought they would be going to the large Faire near the city, Mrs. Larch agreed to Lucinda Graciela’s request and requirement. 

 

Very early on Saturday morning, the little group, Lucinda, Cameron, Lucinda’s mother and Lucinda’s older, married sister Lourdes readied themselves to go travelling, for Renaissance Faire lay a steady three hours of road ahead of them. 

 

Both Lucinda Graciela and Cameron Willa had donned outfits they deemed suitable for a day of knight-gazing: jeans and matching white halter tops with criss-crossed straps as well as their most comfortable sneakers. Because, although the sneakers didn’t make a fashion statement, they attested to both Lucinda’s and Cameron’s maturity. Only children would consider wearing shoes with no support for 8 hours of walking.

 

Mrs. Larch had purchased the tickets at the grocery store, at a discounted price, and clutched them, and a backpack containing a bottle of Tylenol, water bottles, sunblock and snacks as well as a magazine for herself to read in the shade of a kiosk should the day become too hot and tromping on the pavements of the Faire become too tiresome. Her husband had drilled her repeatedly on the driving directions and had written them out and provided a map with the route carefully noted in blazing red.

 

For the first two hours and fifty minutes, travelling to the Faire consisted of driving along a 4 lane highway toward parts unknown. Cars heading the same direction as they were gradually grew in number until, at the junction of State Road 47 and County Road unnamed, seven or eight sedans took the tangent.

 

A two lane macadamed surface softened the sound of the cars passing over it. Unlike more dignified roads which demanded beds to contain them, County Road Unnamed unwound up and down steep hillsides and around a corner (20 mph – sharp turn ahead) into the still chilly early summer morning. One four way intersection tilted along the shoulder of yet another hill led to a still narrower road. 

 

“Mom, this is so peaceful” sighed Lourdes, thoroughly enjoying the silence and the absence of her three children. 

 

To her credit, she and her husband Malachi were raising the children well, but three young persons let loose in the Renaissance Faire would have been made the day a montage of “Please can I buy” and “I’m hungry” and “I want to go home”s that would have tested the patience of any parent. Malachi’s “I’m taking the kids over to my Mom’s for the day” had been music to her ears. But, then, Malachi provided a great deal of such support. Which Lourdes never took for granted.

 

After extracting their backpack from the trunk, the four visitors to the Faire tromped across the field that served as a parking lot and joined the queue at the front entrance to the Faire. At precisely 9:57 a.m., a suitably attired Gentleman of the Court ascended twelve worn stairs to announce, in a voice that could have carried through a hurricane, that “Bye the order of her moste excellente majestye, the Lady Elizabeth Tudor, by the Grace of God, Queen of England and France, Defender of the Faith, Lord of Ireland and of the Church of England and also of Ireland in Earth, under Jesus Christ, Supreme Head, I do declare that upon thys day, a Faire is commenced. Let the doors be opened!” 

 

Behind his Booming Voiceness, an attendant touched a lighted taper to the firing hole of a small cannon. Ten seconds later, the thunderous crack silenced everyone briefly. Then, the doors opened, and visitors in garb and in the clothes of the century they had just left poured through into the town for a day of revelry.

 

Lucinda Graciela and Cameron Willa gaped at the sight which greeted them. For here there was no parking lot smooth surface, no careful manicuring between booths. Dirt lanes wended their way along that shoulder of a gentle slope, and off toward no one knew what adventure. Fortunately, maps of the village had been provided with the tickets. In a trice, Lucinda and Cameron said their goodbyes and promised to find Mrs. Larch and Lourdes at regular intervals during the day. Then, clutching their maps and their purses, they entered the flow of foot traffic and started their exploration of the village.

 

Within ten minutes, both Lucinda and Cameron, as well as hundreds of “visitors to Warwicke” had joined in the spirit of the festival and pushed aside thoughts of jobs and bills, of nagging reminders of the 20th century. The Clans were gathering on that day, and their spirit and music swept through the crowds and drew people into another place altogether.

 

Late in the afternoon, following a day of buying and feasting, of flirting outrageously (because they were all of fourteen and could do so) with every character in the village, Lucinda Graciela and Cameron Willa found themselves pressed against the low barricade to the jousting list. Behind them, the crowd murmured pleasantly, waiting for the late afternoon joust to begin. Farther back, someone had teased the washerwomen and had been splashed in return.

 

 

A warm sun had burned away the earlier damp and dew, and everyone in the crowd focused on the upcoming event. 

 

And then Lucinda Graciela Larch looked up and saw the sky mottle itself with two different colors of blue. 

 

One blue, light and verging on robin’s egg, had been in the sky for the entire day, changing as the angle of the sun changed.

 

The second blue, much deeper, seemed to bleed through the first. Puzzled, Lucinda glanced at Cameron. Who stood staring at the covered pavilion where the actress portraying Queen Elizabeth had been seated along with her covey of attendants.

 

The titters of laughter sounded the same, the way the Queen and her ladies chattered behind their fans hadn’t altered. And the dresses hadn’t changed. The four men guarding the queen – wait. Four men? Wearing swords that didn’t look ceremonial. 

 

 

Then the two knights and their entourages approached the list. And Lucinda Graciela stood gaping. Because she had not only watched the first jousting session, she and Cameron had followed the knights back to their caravan and eavesdropped on their conversation while they changed out of their armor. And she remembered quite clearly that both knights had been blonde haired and fair faced. Neither knight looked like the two men who walked past her leading their horses onto the field. And when the second knight turned his face to look at the crowd, Lucinda Graciela shrank back from the livid scar that had traced itself from his brow to his cheekbone. 

 

“Cameron- “

 

“Lucinda, this is amazing! Look at his makeup!” Cameron stared at the second knight as he led his destrier onto the list. “You wouldn’t think that it was the same guy from before! I wonder how they did that!”

 

“I don’t think it IS the same guy,” Lucinda whispered. Eyes sharpened by fear, she stared across the tourney field at the queen and her attendants. “That’s not the same actress. Look at her face.”

 

“Lucinda, we’re too far away to see her face!”

 

“I can see it. And that’s not the same person.” Lucinda’s brow clouded in confusion. And dread. Cameron’s brow cleared in wonderment. 

 

On the field, the actors in their roles and attendants had begun to drift away from their parts. Lucinda watched as one of the knights spoke sharply to a boy who held the knight’s lance. Frightened, the youngster backed away from his elder. The crowd for the most part, hadn’t sensed any change and waited a bit impatiently for the joust to start. The day had been long and warm and perfect. Most of them had entered the spirit of the Faire willingly and enthusiastically. But the last tourney marked the close of the Faire for that day, and people’s minds began to turn, reluctantly in many cases, toward the world beyond the Faire’s hill.

 

Then, just as suddenly as the moment had begun, it ended. The sky cleared to a perfectly average color, the knight who had frightened his young attendant jumped off his horse and apologized gravely, causing the lad to blush with embarrassment. And, when he looked back, apparantly directly at Lucinda Graciela Larch, his hair glinted blonde and no mark disfigured his face. Stunned, certain that she’d seen a stranger knight, Lucinda craned her head around to look at the queen and her four guards. There sat the queen with her attendants, but no guards hovered close by.

 

Abruptly, Lucinda Graciela Larch wanted nothing to do with the Renaissance Faire. 

 

“I’m going back to the car. Now. Are you coming?” she asked Cameron, although she asked in transit and didn’t really hear Cameron’s answer.

 

As for Cameron, she knew she’d seen something extraordinary, and the hope of seeing it again would have her returning year after year to the Faire. 

 

Lucinda refused to discuss what she’d believed she’d seen. And, in time, she convinced herself that she’d never really seen it. She never returned to the Faire. Within a year, she and Cameron had drifted apart and only spoke in passing in the halls at school. 

 

By her senior year in high school, Lucinda Graciela Larch had evolved into a fine, upstanding person. 

 

 

She took her vitamins and studied – studiously. She entered the business world a s a secretary after two years in Junior College. She lived in a secure, energy efficient, modest home. She locked her doors in the afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

Now – Other than Here

 

“Zia. Maida. “ Nancy spoke quietly, seriously. In unison, the Crow Girls cocked their heads to one side and regarded her. “It’s almost sunset. I need you to come outside and watch it with me.”

 

Zia glanced at Maida glanced at Zia. Immediately adopting Nancy’s seriousness, they nodded to each other and then at her and her shadow. Because, though they were actually much the eldest, they had forgot long long before. And they were polite.

 

The sky had washed itself clean after two days of gray straggling clouds and limping rain. And, faintly, so softly that only the ground and the Crow girls heard it, warmth blew under the swirling cool wind, spring easing its way under the still partially closed door of the northern winter. 

 

Above the four of them, the sky’s colors began to shift from day blue and grey toward evening blue and deepblue black. Abruptly, Nancy pointed to a spot just to the north of the setting sun. “There.”

 

In the very center of the yellowblue end -of -day light, a narrow band of deepnight blue appeared. As soon as its outlines became clear, it began to dissipate until, less than five minutes later, it was gone.

 

“The Tamsen Leaf “ Maida began.

 

“in Kellygnow wood” Zia finished.

 

“Right in one.” Coyote trotted out of the Otherwhen and stopped just before the porch, turned to watch with the others the last of the sunlight disappear into encroaching dark. Weighing the air, re-seeing what had happened, each in his own way.

 

“We are in time.”

 

“Time for what? Are there treats?” Zia asked immediately. Maida turned and glared at her.

 

“This is a seriousthing! “ 

 

“Then a treat. Just for travelling? To see the serious thing?”

 

“One treat would be right for a serious thing. More would be selfish.”

 

“Veryvery selfish.”

 

Coyote shook on his man skin and stared up at Nancy. 

 

“Are you sure they’re the right ones for this?”

 

“Weare! We definitely are,” Zia interrupted, her spiky blue-black hair even spikier because she was so earnest. 

 

“Aren’t we, Maida?”

 

“Yes we are. What is the “this” we’re up to? Is it tall?”

 

“There are two people we need you to protect. They don’t know they are in danger, and they don’t need to know yet. But we need you to keep watch on them. Can you do it?”

 

Maida thought for forty-one seconds and then nodded. “Only two?”

 

“One is extremely tall.” Nancy spoke with perfect gravity, although her eyes sparkled with humor. “And one has green eyes.”

 

“Oh! Then two is the best number for them. And we’re two. We can protect them.” Zia responded immediately. “When are they?”

“Where are they,” Maida corrected. “I think they are in our nowwhen, Zia.” 

 

Three minutes and sixteen seconds later, fortified with an enormous amount of tea-y sugar, two crows took to the air and disappeared, there being no time to fly in the presentwhere. Behind them, watching, hoping that they would remember their charges, Nancy, Tuesday and Coyote stared at the empty place where they’d been and then at each other. “At least we have some idea now.”

 

Abruptly, Tuesday went very straight and still, murmured, “Look”, staring off toward the nearest stand of trees and low bushes, where something startled and lumbered back into the wood, out of sight. “That didn’t belong here.”

 

“What did you see?” Coyote asked, even as he scented the air and felt his hackles rise. “Whatever it is, it stinks.”

 

“Speak with your otherself. And tighten the wards around the four who are as well as the two that will be. No names .”

 

“Agreed.” All four of them knew that names called to names. The two who would be, the two in the greatest peril, couldn’t be named again, even in thought. Too much danger surrounded them.

 

Grim faced, Nancy followed her shadow inside; and Tuesday brought up the rear, closing the door to their home, not looking back.


	7. Chapter 6

“Do you want to head straight back to the house?” Dean asked.

 

“Sam, do you see anything?”

 

“No.”

 

“How much do you think Jeff can handle?” Dean spoke very quietly, but Jeff still turned a little to stare at him. Clearly frightened. _Handle?_

 

“I think we’d better be sure they aren’t tailing us. I don’t want to lead them straight to Hal and Bonnie.” John didn’t want to take the time to be sure they weren’t being followed. But he knew that, if the kidnappers were somewhere around, the worst thing he could do would be to lead them near Jeff or their hosts, who could serve as bargaining chips: Jeff for their lives. “Go slow and head north toward Frisco. We won’t go all the way. But we need to shake ‘em out if they’re behind us.”

 

At its most efficient, the Impala’s voice rumbled; at low speeds, the cough and purr of the engine thundered unmistakably in the cold, quiet mountain air. Although he wanted to move quickly, Dean wanted even more to stay beneath both police radar and the attention of Jeff’s abductors. No speeding tickets and no shouting or beeping horns, no matter what the provocation Dean reminded himself.

 

So, when a pedestrian bundled and scarfed in layers thick enough to fend off a January blizzard stepped off the curb directly in front of the Impala, he didn’t hit the horn in protest. He or she, however, had no similar compunctions: “You! Pedestrians have the right of way!” she shouted after them as they pulled away from her. Muttering unintelligibly, she crossed the street and stumped her way up the sidewalk and into the night.

 

Dean swallowed several very colorful responses and eased the car down South Ridge, turned right on East Adams and, a block later, right again onto South Main. Then, still under the speed limit, they headed north toward Frisco. 

 

 

 

Sam, Dean, and John didn’t really notice how quickly the darkness descended past Breckenridge’s last street light. They’d spent too much time in recent weeks working in the middle of nowhere, where night was broken only by the faint flickers of small town street and house lights. Although other cars trailed along behind them or met them coming the opposite way, the sounds of their engines did little to alleviate the silence that descends with the darkness. To all intents, the Impala rumbled alone on Highway 9, its passengers the only beings in the night.

 

 

_-The one fears the dark, the rooted beings, the four legs and sky treaders. The one fears us._

_-Patience, brother. Patience._

_-The other senses the one’s great fear but does not know. It is too soon for the other to know the one._

_\- Yet the two and the second two are in need._

_-The youngest brother helps them._

_-What would they say if they knew it?_

_-Indeed._

 

Jeff stared out into the deepnight, breath tightening and growing shallower. As the Impala neared Frisco, the hulks of the Ten Mile range, blacker than the night above them, seemed to march closer to the road and hedge the car into the dark. 

 

 

John couldn’t see Jeff’s face, but his ragged breathing and the death grip he had on John’s hand were enough to warn the hunter to move and move fast. “Jeff?” No response. “Jeff, I don’t know if you can hear me. But you’re safe. I’m here and I swear that you’re safe.”

 

 

Every bit of his attention focused on Jeff, who huddled against him. The younger man’s stare had fixed on a spot over John’s right shoulder, and he clung like a python to whatever of John he could grab. “Jeff? Jeff, look at me. C’mon, Jeff. Look here.” When Jeff’s gaze eventually landed on his face, he started; John realized that Jeff hadn’t even heard him. He stroked Jeff’s cheek and tapped one finger gently against the end of his nose. “Hey,” he whispered as quietly as he knew how. “I’m here. What’s wrong?” _Good work, Winchester. That oughta get a response. He hasn’t put ten words together all damn night._

 

“Too -” Jeff couldn’t get all the words out. He was choking trying to say them. Desperate, he leaned into John’s hand and tried to calm himself. “Too big!”

 

John watched that frantic gaze shift back toward the darkness beyond the Impala and leaned to keep Jeff’s attention. “Jeff, stay with me.” Jeff’s grip twisted in the fabric of the hand me down jacket John wore, but at least he kept his focus inside the car. _Man, what the hell did they do to you_? John thought, shifting a little to keep himself between Jeff and any view of the outside.

 

_Too dark. Too big. They can find me out there. They can. Shadows everywhere. They’ll find me, no matter what you do. They’ll take me back. They’ll, I can’t I can’t talk!_ Jeff clutched at John’s borrowed jacket, face white, jaw working, breathing becoming more and more labored as the seconds passed.

 

John watched Jeff squeeze his eyes shut, felt the breath heaving from him, and took a risk. “Jeff, I have a brown paper bag in the first aid kit. I’m pretty sure that it’d clash with my jacket but I’m gonna make you use it if you don’t settle.” _Smooth, Winchester._ Much to the hunter’s surprise, Jeff’s eyes opened and he managed a faint laugh. _I think we’re going to have to work on your sense of humor, Jeff._

 

 

“Dad!” Exasperated, Dean snapped John’s name a fourth time, with no more results than he had had the other three. A quick glance in the rear view mirror was followed by “Oh crap!” Curious, Sam glanced over his shoulder and avoided staring by only milliseconds. 

 

“Well?” 

 

“Uhm, the nearest car is at least a quarter mile back. There’re headlights for two or three others behind that one.” Sam replied, hoping that he’d guessed Dean’s question.

 

“Ask Jeff if he can tell us what kind of car they drove.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“It’ll help. I want to know what the hell to look for.” Temper slipping, he barked “Dad! Get Jeff to tell us what they were driving!”

 

Jeff’s reaction was immediate. He recoiled and shuddered away from John and from Dean’s frustration. Gentle, John tugged the frightened man back into his embrace. Whispering his name, he leaned his forehead against Jeff’s and kissed him lightly over and over, each caress punctuated by Jeff’s name and by “It’s safe. You’re all right. I’m here. Sshh” until, tentatively, Jeff kissed him back. At which point, John forgot everything but the man who had nestled back so closely that John could feel the hammering of his heart. 

 

Half thinking out loud, his deep voice velvet soft, he whispered, “Jeff, besides those assholes who kidnapped you, what else is wrong? What are you so afraid of? Can you tell me?” Watched cautiously as Jeff opened his mouth to say something. Anything.

 

Jeff tried. He tried to speak. But he couldn’t. Could not! _They were in a car. A car! Why can’t I say that? A car? Make it all go away! I don’t want to remember anything. But if I don’t you could get caught! They could catch me again! I don’t want to remember: I can’t! Help me!_

 

John had seen one hell of a lot of panic in his years on the Hunt, but Jeff unraveling in front of him hurt to watch. _Oh shit, Winchester. Okay, try to calm him down before he_ does _hyperventilate._ “Okay, Jeff. Slow and easy.”

 

“Jeff, I’m going to ask you some questions. They’re yes and no. Nod for yes, shake your head no. You don’t have to say a word.” Gaze uncertain, Jeff pulled back a bit and stared up at John, nodded. 

 

“Was it a van?” Shake.

 

“Okay. A car.” Nod.

 

“Then it wasn’t a semi. That’s good. Four doors?”

 

Nod. “Dean, it’s a sedan.” John went for color next, hoping he’d hit the right one in one. “ Jeff, was it white?” Shake of the head. No, then. “Black?” Shake. “Blue?” Nod. “Do you know what plates it had?” Wide eyed, startled stare. “Dean, what color are Colorado plates?”

 

“Green with white mountains, I think.”

 

“Jeff, were they-no, huh. “ John watched Jeff’s face closely and waited while he tried for a word.

 

“Dark.” Jeff whispered.

 

“I know it’s dark. We’ll get every light in the cabin on when we get there, I promise.” Jeff’s shake of the head stopped John in his tracks. “What?”the word as gentle as he could make it.

 

“Dark blue.” Jeff gulped out the first word and whispered the second, but that didn’t matter. 

 

He’d said what he’d wanted to say.

 

John nodded. “Good. That’s good, Jeff.” Jeff nodded hopefully and John smiled. “Really good.” 

 

“Dad, are there any back roads we can use to go to Bonnie and Hal’s? Roads we could lose those creeps on?”

 

“There are some, but we’re more than likely to lose ourselves, too. I’ve only been on ‘em in the daylight. We’d better head back. Take your time. But we need to get Jeff someplace warm.” 

 

“On our way. Keep an eye out, that is, if you can keep your eyes off Jeff for thirty seconds.”

 

John ignored Dean’s comment, much preferring to keep both his eyes trained right on Jeff. 

 

Eyes heavy with weariness, Jeff yawned and blinked slowly before he relaxed against John and snugged his face into the angle between John’s jaw and his neck. Responding to a memory that reached back to nights when he had quieted a fussy baby Dean, John relaxed his body completely, encouraging Jeff to drift off to sleep. Absently, the hunter wondered why his back ached from top to bottom and decided that the back seat of the Impala, a romantic enough place when he had been younger, was not the best spot for making out in these, his more advanced years.

 

 

****

 

 

The trip back to Bonnie and Hal’s took fewer than ten minutes. Once they reached the end of the driveway, Dean shut off the Impala’s headlights and ghosted the car to a halt as close to the cabin as possible. Moving silently as they did so, Dean and Sam eased the car doors open and stood up, covering each other’s back and testing the air for anything (other than themselves) out of place. 

 

“Sammy? Get the door. On three.” Dean counted silently and nodded. In perfect covering formation, Sam high and Dean low, he and Sam pushed into the dark great room of the guest cabin. 

 

“Clear” Sam mouthed and waved his G30 toward his and Dean’s bedroom. Three minutes later, Dean re-opened the front door and whistled, one low, sliding sound to capture John’s attention.

 

“Dad? Bring him in.” Dean pitched his voice low for a couple of reasons. The most important one involved keeping Jeff calm. 

 

_Warm. Let me sleep. It doesn’t hurt as much when I sleep. I don’t want to wake up. Safe here with you, John. Safe._

 

“Jeff.” 

 

_Sleeping here, John._

 

“You need to wake up.”

 

_Sleeping!_

 

“We’re at Hal and Bonnie’s. We need to get indoors where it’s warm. Look out there. See the door?” he brushed Jeff’s cheek with his fingers and pointed toward the open door.

 

“Uh hmmm”

 

“Can you get that far on your own?”

 

“Yes.” _But don’t go far. It’s too big out here. Too much darkness. I changed my mind. I want to stay in the car._ He started to shake his head “No”, but he’d waited too long. 

 

“Good. I’m going to get out first. You just swing your legs around and I’ll help you up.” John eased Jeff away from his chest and shivered as the night air invaded the space between them. Keeping one hand on Jeff, he stood and stretched his legs and back. 

 

“You?” _Great question, Morgan. Why can’t I get the words out? No! Don’t let me go! Please._

 

“Right here. Easy now. Sam, Dean, watch our backs.”

 

_Those are guns! Real guns. Well, of course they’re real. They’re the Winchesters. John’s got a gun, too. Are those guys out in the dark? John? JOHN!_ “Here?” _Are they out there? John, I don’t want to get out of the car. What if they’re inside? No, Sam and Dean swept the cabin. But they could have hidden-nononono. I don’t want to go inside_! “Here?”

 

“Not that we can see. C’mon, Jeff. It’s no more than five steps: hold on to me. Good! Now look inside.” John waited patiently for Jeff to stare from the doorway around what he could see of the cabin’s interior. Sam gestured “C’mon in” with one arm and smiled encouragingly. As for Dean, he had had some experience with upset injured people, and he made sure to stay in Jeff’s line of vision as he removed his jacket and casually tossed it onto the couch facing the fireplace. “Sammy, is there any coffee?”

 

Beside Jeff, John shifted his arm so he stayed clear of the other man’s injured back. Cautiously, Jeff took a step forward. And, when nothing attacked him, a second and a third. Encouraged, John continued the business as usual tone the boys had set. “Nice cabin, huh? Y’know, I like fireplaces, really romantic and everything, but central heating is better on a night like this. Hold still. Let me get that jacket off. What?”

 

“Cold.” Jeff lied. He plain every day did not want to relinquish John Winchester’s coat. And that was that. 

 

“Uh…okay…”

 

“Dad?” 

 

“What?” John replied, hackles rising at the insufferably knowing tone in Sam’s voice. 

 

“I hope you like green.”

 

Dean had been in the middle of searching for coffee, but the laughter in Sam’s words brought him around to stare. “Yeah, dad. A lot.”

 

John squinted suspiciously at both of them. They stared innocently back at him. Jeff stared at the wall over Dean’s shoulder. And time ticked on. Until, his patience tried to the limit, John snapped and dropped into hunter mode.

 

“Sam. Dean. Perimeter. Set wards and sigils. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

 

“Got it.” Sam replied, still chuckling to himself and wondering if his father had ever been in a situation where someone had wanted to wear his jacket. Well, he was damn right there now. And, to be honest, his dad looked pole axed. Sam waited until he’d closed the door behind Dean and himself before the chuckling went audible.

 

“Jeff, you’re safe.” John spoke warmly and gently, watched as Jeff gulped in a slightly deeper breath than he’d been grabbing and quieted himself. But stayed closer than a shadow to John.

 

 

****

 

“Jeff may be safe from those guys,” Dean muttered to himself as he watched through the front window. “From Dad? I’m not so sure.” Sam grinned and shook his head. “What? Oh come on! Did you see those two? There isn’t room between ‘em for an atom to squeeze through!”

 

“Yeah, I saw. But _Dad?_ Our hard as nails, loner-”

 

“Our hard as nails loner with mush for a heart and a sex record that’s more of a legend than he is. More of a legend than _mine_ would -“ 

 

Dean had tossed the rest of that sentence out hundreds of times, just to get a rise out of Sam. Something in the air choked off the rest of his sentence. That and the look on Sam’s face.

 

“Yours, if I remember correctly, is pretty much stuck on “Sam, Sam, Sam” time. Right?” Sam’s smile wavered a little and, much to his embarrassment and surprise, a tear made its way to the corner of his right eye. Dean just gaped at him. 

 

“Baby? What’s the matter? You know I was just bull shitting! Right? Oh crap. Don’t cry!!”

 

“I’m not. My eyes are leaking,” Sam countered, wiping at the corners of the aforementioned traitorous body parts. “Dean, it’s weird. One minute we’re joking and the next-Could you kinda-uh-”

 

Dean enfolded his lover in a hug. Softly, he murmured “Always you. Only you. There will never be anyone else. Ever. I love you.” He frowned when Sam shivered and choked his name. 

 

“Baby?” Dean let Sam pick the pace, and leaned into his little brother, strong hands stroking the length of Sam’s back, gentling away the wash of emotion that had swept out of the beyond, as far as he could tell. Whatever had happened had been virtually tangible, the air around them heavier. Puzzled, but far more worried about Sam than concerned about air currents, Dean murmured endearments and kept his embrace steady. 

 

_-What is that?_

_-What has not been._

_-Yet what is._

_-They’ll draw others._

 

 

Sam finally nodded into Dean’s neck, hauled in a breath and kissed Dean’s lips and then the corners of his mouth, nuzzled Dean’s cheek with his own. “I’m better. Sorry about the chick flick moment.”

 

“Just keep ‘em down to one a year. It’s hard on my blood pressure when you cry.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sam heard the snap of a twig being stepped on, followed by a very soft noise that neither Winchester could identify. Immediately on the defensive, back to back with Dean, he listened intently. They circled 360 degrees, weapons ready, steps slow and careful.

 

“Critter?”

 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

 

_-Too close._

_-The four and two must come._

_-Must. At once._

 

They took another look around the outside of the house, drew warding sigils over and under each window and door, and double checked their handiwork before they turned to go back where it was warm. Dean slowed and stopped just as his hand touched the door knob. Curious, Sam canted his head toward his big brother; when Dean added another sigil to the door wards, Sam nodded in understanding and approval.

 

“Protect the innocent herein.” 

 

Silently, they reentered the cabin.

 

 

****

 

 

The great room was empty, but they heard sounds coming from John’s bedroom.

 

“Do we want to know?”

 

“Dean, I don’t think even Dad would do that right now.” Sam’s smile vanished when John called out “Get the first aid kit out of the truck, Dean. Sam, we need you in here.” His dad’s voice wavered and broke. Sam went into motion before John had finished the sentence.

 

John turned his head and stared at Sam when his youngest eased into the bathroom, making only enough noise to let the two men know he was there. Hair soaking wet, water dripping down his neck to the towel that John had draped over his shoulders, Jeff leaned against the hunter. “I tried getting him back to bed. He stopped and I can’t get him moving again.”

 

Sam almost quipped something about John just picking his bride up and carrying him, but the open fear in his father’s eyes stopped him cold. He’d seen John afraid before, of course. The supernatural was just that and damned terrifying at times. And he’d seen the look again any time that Sam or Dean had been injured. But the look John shot at him held despair and fear in equal proportion. 

 

“Let me help, okay?” 

 

Sam knew he didn’t need to say the words aloud: John understood just by his motions what he intended to do. Jeff, however, was another story altogether.

 

“Thanks, son. Be care-“

 

Gently, Sam eased one arm around Jeff’s ribcage, talking to him as he did so. “Tell me if I hurt you, okay? Jeff?” Jeff’s heavy nod was all the reply that Sam got. “Dad, the door side of the bed.”

 

“Yeah. On his stomach.” John’s attention shifted back to Jeff and he leaned close and whispered something into Jeff’s ear. Jeff’s nod took him off balance, but he managed a step in the right direction.

 

Once they had Jeff stretched out on John’s bed, Sam propped him with pillows under his abdomen and between his knees, then looked at the damage. “Dad, this is…”

 

“I know.”

 

John had steeled himself to wash clean the injury to Jeff’s shoulders, but cleaning it had only clarified how badly hurt Jeff had been. Oozing pus and blood, the gash tore an almost straight line from shoulder to shoulder. Worse yet, Sam could clearly see where the wound had been torn open again after it had begun to heal. Five other, smaller slashes, each more or less infected, lurked across Jeff’s back. The injuries to his leg had healed after a fashion, but that was about the only positive thing about Jeff’s condition. 

 

“Crap, Sammy,” Dean whispered. He set down all twenty five pounds of First Aid kit and scrubbed his left hand through his hair. “He needs a doctor.”

 

“ _No!_ ” Jeff struggled wildly against John’s gentle pressure on his side. “No doctors-no doctors- no!”

 

“Jeff,” John glanced up at Sam _Can you clean this up?_ Sam shrugged a concerned, _Maybe_ , which was all the Yes that John needed.“Jeff, Sam’s going to do triage. You know what that is, right? Jeff?”

 

“Dying” Jeff whispered hopelessly.

 

“No, it’s emergency evaluation and care. It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

 

“Here?” Jeff whispered, so softly that John barely heard him. 

 

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” John murmured, taking Jeff’s left hand between his.

 

The look of absolute trust Jeff gave him nearly broke John’s heart. “Not afraid.” He managed a tight little smile and wrapped his fingers around John’s thumb again.

 

“Jeff, please don’t fight it if you feel like you’re going to pass out. Dad’s here and he won’t let anything happen to you.“ Sam spoke calmly, already deep into rescue mode. “Dean, let’s get this set up. We won’t be able to stitch anything – the skin’s too infected. But we can clean things and – we’ll figure out where to go once that’s done.”

 

“With you, baby brother.” They left John and Jeff for a couple of minutes in order to scrub their hands in the bathroom. “Sammy, have you looked close at Dad?”

 

“The wincing? Yeah. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it. He’s never acted like this – _ever._ ” Thoughtfully, Sam peeked back into the bedroom, where John on the edge of the bed, whispering to Jeff and kissing his temple, his cheek, any part of Jeff’s face he could reach. “I’ve never seen him so scared.”

 

“I have. Once.” Dean’s eyes darkened with the memory. And he said no more.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

 

Dean leaned back on the couch and held Sam tight to him, silently rubbing his shoulders and back, rocking him like he had when Sam had been much, much younger and had hurt himself. One frazzled nerve at a time, Sam put himself back together while Dean drifted, using the same technique John had applied earlier with Jeff. Thinking “You’re safe. I’m here. I love you.” Not speaking, letting his body translate for him.

 

Behind them, the door to John and Jeff’s bedroom stood slightly ajar. Sam hadn’t even wanted to leave the room and had only given in when Dean had suggested not closing the door all the way. 

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Not yet, Dean-“

 

“All right.”

 

Dean didn’t know what else to do. 

 

The previous half hour had dragged like a half century. 

 

From the first second Sam started to clean the injuries, John had stiffened and gone pale. And paler. And paler again. Somehow, and Dean couldn’t fathom it, although his dad’s entire body seemed to have turned rigid, his hands never tightened. By main force of will, the older Winchester had kept his immediate contact with Jeff as open as possible. But sweat popped out on his brow and his face twisted in pain. Breathing labored, he still whispered to Jeff, telling him how brave he was, how proud he was of him. 

 

Jeff had fought losing consciousness – Dean understood why. He’d spent too much time unconscious at the hands of the freaks who’d kidnapped him. But the pain finally overwhelmed him and he slid away into unknowing, clinging to John with what was left of his strength. “Dad?” Dean had asked cautiously when he saw his father’s face relax a little.”What’s happening?”

 

“Dad, let go of his hand. He’s out cold.” Sam, focused intently on Jeff’s injuries, hadn’t seemed to notice how John had reacted: however, Dean knew, what Sam seemed to see and what he saw usually bore no relation to each other. 

 

“No.” John’s voice rasped, ragged and exhausted with the effort of keeping calm for Jeff while pain and heat tore him from shoulder to shoulder and then lashed across his back in smaller spots of fire and torment. “No.” 

 

“Dad, he won’t feel anything. He’s unconscious. Let go of his hand.” Dean spoke quietly, but his tone brooked no nonsense. “Let go.” Reluctant, John dropped the grip he had on Jeff’s hand and pulled clear.

 

Two things happened immediately. John slumped backward toward the headboard. Jeff stirred and started to awaken, in pain and terrified. “Dean! Help me!” John grated. Despite the fact that the last thing he wanted to do was to put John back into contact with Jeff, Dean knew his dad would make the connection whether or not he helped him. And, somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean thought that he might be able to siphon part of the pain away from John. Still bracing John’s back, he watched as his father reached out and clamped his hands around the fist Jeff had made of his left hand.

 

The pain that lashed into Dean’s arm lasted for only a fraction of a second: he reeled away from his father, gaping stupidly at his own hand, sure he’d burned it. Beside him, Sam knew that Dean had been injured. His concentration broken, he accidentally brushed one end of Jeff’s shoulder wound. Jeff lost consciousness again, and John lurched straight up as Jeff’s pain slashed through him. 

 

“Dad! DAD!” Sam stopped what he was doing and just stared at John. “Oh god, did I hurt you? Dad, I don’t – what’s happening? Dean?” He’d begun to pick up on the panic in the room and had lost his concentration.

 

“Sammy, just breathe. Just freakin’ breathe. Settle down. Good-let me get my breath. Dad? Listen to me. He needs you to be there, but you need to let us help you. Let me help you. Do you hear me?” Dean didn’t have a damn clue how to help John, but he knew sure as the night was cold that his father and his brother needed to calm down. Fast. Yelling might shock them into silence. Or it might result in even more confusion. So he dipped yet again into the vast bucket of “Dean is patient, Dean is patient.” 

 

John didn’t respond until Dean had repeated his words three more times, each time more quietly. The fourth time, his father nodded shakily. “Better. Good. Dean, listen to me. I have to deal with this. You can’t.” He even managed a glare when Dean started to protest. Panting with the effort required to speak, John forced himself to focus. Calm, calm when Sam is this upset. Calm. “ Sam- how close are you to done? Sammy, concentrate. How-close.” 

 

“Three minutes, dad.”

 

“Good. Calm down, Sam. Good. Dean, we need to get painkiller into Jeff. Just something to ease it. Tylenol. The prescription one.”

 

“Ty…lenol. Yeah, okay” Dean wondered, a little hysterically, if John would be giving orders on how to handle his funeral from his deathbed. “Morphine?”

 

“No. Don’t know if he’s allergic. How he’ll-react.”

 

“Dad, we’re going to need to wake him up to give this to him.”

 

John nodded wearily. “I know. Sam, you done?”

 

“Yeah. We’ll need to keep this clean. And he needs a doctor.”

 

“Let’s deal with this much for now, okay?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

Jeff fumbled toward wakefulness the minute that John released his hands. He realized that someone-Sam? No, Dean – held a glass of water to his lips and spoke gently to him, telling him to take the Tylenol. Tylenol? Then John’s “Swallow, Jeff. I’m right here.” Calmed everything. “Jeff, are you allergic to any medicine?”

 

“Sammm?”

 

“ That’s me. Are you allergic to any medication?” Sam asked again, patient and gentle. 

 

“Err..”

 

“Erythromycin.”

 

“Uh hmmm…” 

 

“Break out the penicillin, Dean. How much do we have left?”

 

“Six bad hunts’ worth.”

 

“Jeff? Wake up a little. Dean? I can’t-”

 

“Easy, Sammy . Let me.”

 

Within ten minutes, between the painkiller and simple exhaustion, Jeff had fallen asleep, propped on his side and leaning a bit forward among a regiment of pillows. As worn out as Jeff, John nodded where he sat. Sam reached out for Dean, who pulled him into his embrace and held him close. “Don’t try to talk. We’re going out to the main room. Dad, are you going to be able to sleep?”

 

He watched John force his eyelids open and squint as he attempted to focus. “Sleep.” The word died away amid a yawn. John was dropping where he had propped himself, three pillows deep from the headboard. “Dad, try to sleep. Jeff will for awhile.”

 

“’M all right,” John managed around a wince and half a yawn. “Better now.”

 

“Dad, just rest. We’ll be right here.” 

 

“Sam, let’s let Dad and Jeff sleep.” Dean knew from the look Sam shot him that he’d said the wrong thing. But he wanted Sam next to him. Close. Away from what had just happened. “We’ll leave the door open, baby, but let’s let them be alone.”

 

****

 

Sam let loose a long sigh and murmured “What happened in there?” His head felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and his neck couldn’t support it. “Dean, I don’t have a fucking clue about what happened.”

 

“Damned if I know. The only thing I _do_ know, is that you and I are not sleeping in that bedroom.”

 

 

****

 

 

A soft knock at the front door startled Dean: he’d calmed himself so much to ensure that Sam slept that he’d followed his little brother into dreamland. Figuratively. 

 

Another knock and a very low pitched “Boys? John? Are you awake?” followed the first.

 

Moving cautiously, Dean slid Sam a little to the side and stood up, turning to settle the taller man onto the couch, watching for a moment to make certain that he stayed asleep. Then, his gun in his hand, he walked silently to the door and listened. “Hal?”

 

“Me.”

 

Cautiously, Dean opened the door a few inches and stared out. Hal waited patiently for him to say “Christo”. “It’s me, Dean. I’m not going to come in – you look like hell and I’m not going to keep you up.” A frown crossed his face. “Someone showed up here earlier tonight looking for you and Sam. By name.”

 

“What?” Dean’s mind went into high gear immediately. “Was – he? he, then – alone? “

 

“As far as I could tell. Why?”

 

“Four ugly bastards made some trouble tonight,” Dean replied, as completely as he could. “But they didn’t know our names. And they sure as hell didn’t know where we were staying. What’d this guy look like?”

“Just a middle aged guy, although I could have sworn, for just a second – “ Hal squinted his eyes and scratched at his left ear, as if the memory itched him “I could have sworn that he looked like somebody I should know.”

 

“And he just asked for Sam and me?”

 

‘Wondered if I’d seen you. I told him that I hadn’t. He nodded and apologized for bothering Bonnie and me, walked down the driveway. I heard a car starting and I figured I’d better get a look at it. But it was black as the Impala or John’s truck. I couldn’t make out the plate number. I’m sorry.”

 

“He didn’t say anything else?”

 

“No. Just nodded and apologized. But…Dean, I’m not sure why I think I should know him.”

 

Hall had spent a lot of the previous few hours trying to figure that very puzzle out. “But I don’t know from where. Not around here. That’s for certain.”

 

“Hal, thanks for coming down to tell us. Dad’s asleep right now, but I’ll let him know about this later this morning.”

 

“Thanks, Dean. And-“ Hal hesitated for just a moment before he finished speaking. “This is going to sound like I’m reading too much fantasy or something-“

 

“Hunter of the supernatural here, Hal.”

 

“The guy didn’t feel evil. Does that make any sense at all?”

 

“Yeah, it does. A lot of sense. Hal – do you know of a doctor who makes house calls and who can keep his mouth shut?”

 

Hal’s face went still, except for his eyes, which tightened worriedly. “You guys need a doctor?”

 

“No. We’re all right. But we have someone here who might need one.”

 

“I know of one.” Before Dean could say anything else, Hal shook his head. “Not a problem about the discretion. He won’t say anything.”

 

“We may need him later this morning. I’ll get hold of you. And, Hal, thanks!”

 

Dean watched from the doorway as Hal stepped carefully over the outer salt lines and then strode quickly back to the main house. Five minutes later the kitchen light flicked out and darkness rolled back in. Still thinking loudly enough to wake Sam from a coma, Dean turned from the night, closed the door, checked his own salt lines and stood pondering. 

 

“Dean?” Sam’s eyes drifted open and he turned his head toward his lover. “Are you all right?”

 

“Hmmm? Yeah. Sure. Fine. Baby, we should go to bed.”

 

With a yawn as large as his stretch of the arms was long, Sam rolled up to his feet. “I want to check Dad and Jeff first.”

 

“Okay. But we’re just _checking_ on them.”

 

Silence as deep as deep could go filled the room. Only the faint breathing of the two sleeping men and Sam and Dean’s slightly louder breaths interrupted it. Dean found himself softening his respiration, as if even that faint break in the quiet was too loud.

 

Sam, standing beside and behind Dean felt something shift. Faint and far away, music, maybe from a house down the road, slipped and slid toward them. More from the other side of the house-just a wash of sound, a sigh that feathered into silence again. 

 

But it roused John from his sleep, a little. He smiled down at Jeff, still lost in the depths of uneasy rest, and gently kissed the crown of Jeff’s head and the bridge of his nose. Not even aware of Sam and Dean standing in the doorway, John settled the blankets carefully around Jeff and returned to his dreams.

 

Time passed, and the two brothers didn’t move, as if ensorcelled what they saw. Compelled by curiosity - or by longing - Dean ventured one step closer. Watched his father and Jeff, wondering at the peaceful look on John’s face. Something-for a heartbeat, he stared intently, making certain that John still breathed. There was something there. Something-deep in.

 

Sam heard Dean swallow and pulled his lover back toward him. Dean’s entire body trembled and he looked up at Sam, shaken by emotions he didn’t understand. The air around him – around him and Sam, standing there – felt warmer, felt brighter. Tucked itself around Dean and Sam. No, tucked themselves around Dean and Sam. Two songs, similar but not identical. Sam saw the light in Dean’s eyes as he looked first at John and Jeff and then, expression open and vulnerable, at him. 

 

He nodded when Sam crooked a finger and signaled that they needed to leave John and Jeff in peace. When they closed the bedroom door and turned back to the half lit living room, the difference in the air pursued them and curled around them. Confused, Dean reached out for Sam’s wrist, intending to warn him.

 

But against what? Baffled, acutely aware of the warmth of Sam’s hand on his, Dean tried to say something. And nearly wept. Startled, remembering Sam’s sudden uncertainty earlier in the evening, Dean came to a halt and glanced around quickly. Nothing-nothing there. He squinted and listened harder. Something that sounded like an echo of music. A song that he knew, he thought. But far away and faint. Incomplete?

 

Gentle, Sam tugged him closer. Silent himself. Deep in, down beyond, knowing- something. Bemused, wary, Dean looked around the great room one more time before Sam pulled him into their bedroom and closed the door.

 

Sam leaned against the bedroom door and wrapped Dean in his embrace. 

 

Dean cradled the back of Sam’s head in his right palm and kissed him. “I love you, Sammy. I love you so damn much.” There it was again-just a wash of air. And Sam’s lips met his gently.

 

_Dean ventured one step closer. Watched his father and Jeff, wondering at the look on John’s face. Something-for a heartbeat, he stared intently, making certain that John still breathed. Something-deep in._

 

 

Sam tapped the tip of his tongue against Dean’s lips, asking for entrance. Willingly, Dean let him in and deepened his kiss, tongue tracing the line of Sam’s teeth, flickering to the roof of his mouth and then lazing over the flat of Sam’s tongue. Sam moaned faintly and licked across Dean’s lower lip, the underside of his tongue gentle against it. 

 

Barely touching Dean’s face, he ghosted his lips over the freckled skin, kissing along Dean’s nose, nipping his jaw, pulling the two of them together. Slid his hands up under Dean’s T shirt and stroked his brother’s back, kneading muscles gently, then, slowly, more intensely. 

 

Dean pulled back a little and looked up into Sam’s eyes, seeing something in them, he moaned Sam’s name and shuddered in Sam’s embrace. Wantingwantingwanting.

 

 

Without a warning, Sam swung Dean up in his arms and carried him to the California king bed, blood thundering in his ears as his cock swelled and hardened. As carefully as if Dean was a child, he laid him down and, moving silently, intently, balanced on his forearms and spread knees over his older brother. 

 

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, needing-”Make love to me?” 

 

_(Something…deep in…_ ))

 

In answer, Sam gently slid Dean’s shirt up and kissed first his left and then his right collar bone, licking between them, mouthing the undersides of Dean’s pecs, and using the tip of his tongue to circle and tease Dean’s nipples, first one and then the other. Dean reached up to unbutton Sam’s shirt, but Sam stopped him. Kissed the palms of Dean’s hands , settled them on the comforter, before he opened his own shirt, slowly, serioiusly, gaze never drifting from its hold on Dean’s. 

 

Sam brought Dean’s strong, callused hands back to own chest so that Dean’s hands cupped his pecs. Dean knew what Sam wanted, what he craved during those moments when they made deep love. Lightly, just touching Sam, he skated his palms over the sensitive skin. Sensed Sam’s body respond, the skin tightening and his nipples peaking.

 

Sam felt his own erection harden still more at Dean’s sure, gentle, knowing touch and sighed long and quietly as he unzipped his jeans and then Dean’s. The swell of Dean’s cock thrust a ridge against his briefs, and Sam leaned his hips forward so Dean could feel his own hardness. Bent down and mouthed Dean through his briefs, nuzzled the top of Dean’s hipbone and licked into Dean’s navel while he stroked his own cock through his clothes.

 

“Yes?” Sam whispered thickly. “Yes?” around kisses to Dean’s neck and ears, hands gentling down his sides and over his abdomen.

 

“Yes. I love you…” 

 

Sam removed Dean’s clothing, slowly, deliberately, and then peeled his own jeans and briefs off after toeing out of his sneakers. Slowly, gently, his desire deep seated and overwhelming, his kissed Dean and, one caress at a time, lips and then tongue, moved down over his brother’s body, stopping to tongue this time thrusting deep into his navel, teasing at the skin above it, lip-biting down to his erection, rubbing it against the smooth skin under his chin and against his cheeks, the stubble there rasping across the tender, throbbing tip. Dean whimpered and looked longingly into Sam’s eyes, knowing that only Sam would ever see him this way, wanting no one else.

 

He poured lube into his left palm and coated his right second finger with it, then the third. Gentle, steady, he lifted Dean’s legs at the ankle and waited while Dean locked his legs at the broadest part of Sam’s back. Sliding his right hand down the back of Dean’s left leg and then splaying his hand around Dean’s entrance, he bent his two lubed fingers and slid into his brother, deep and careful, stretching him feeling Dean’s legs tremble as he did so.

 

“Sammy-” Dean moaned, hypersensitized by the light touches, loving Sam beyond life, utterly open to his fingers and to the awareness of his cock’s tip as it trailed, leaking pre-come, from behind Dean’s balls to his opening.

 

“Sammy-”

 

Far off and high, a cascade of notes shivered through the darkness and shimmered along the surfaces of two curtains of Northern Lights.

 

“I love you-so much-” Sam whispered as he lubed himself and, in one long move, slid his cock home. Into Dean’s warmth and welcoming. Beneath him, Dean moaned and arched his body up, clinging to Sam, who moved deeply inside him, totally focused on Dean’s pleasure, on his body, on Dean’s mouth against him. Dean-only Dean-always and always, never anyone else. “Dean” he whispered. His hips snapped more rapidly and he reached down to stroke Dean’s cock.

 

“No-no-don’t-…”Dean managed around his own panting responses to Sam’s thrusting. “I-only-you-here-” Dean’s body melded to Sam’s and he cried out as his cock responded to the touch of Sam’s body, Sam in him, with him. “Sammmy-Sammy-” And his world went white as he came, heels digging into Sam’s back, body begging for Sam’s release. Eyes squeezed shut, Sam let his orgasm take them both.

 

Beyond the cabin, the northern lights glinted and glowed, deep orangeyellow fire and stark undeniable crimson swirling into an intricate display that pulsed and danced in time to unheard music.

 

“-Ohgod-perfect-love you-always will-love you so much,” he sobbed the last word and kissed Dean fiercely, still jerking inside him. ‘Always-” Locked together, moving through the aftershocks, they kissed each other, branding all of their love and need on each other.

 

Careful, Sam eased down on his side and, wide eyed, overwhelmed, watched his brother strain to be closer to him. “Baby? Are you-?” Gathered Dean against himself and kissed him, each caress a first kiss, as if he’d never tasted Dean before.

 

“Sammy –I-what just happened?” Dazed, curled inside Sam’s embrace, Dean plucked feebly at the sheet. Pulling it up? Taking it off? He tried to say something, but there weren’t any more words. Love half blinding him, he looked up into Sam’s gaze and attempted a smile.

 

“I don’t know-but I want it to happen again and again and again.” Sam whispered as they kissed quietly, fire edging every motion. “And again. I love you. I love you.”

 

“I love you-” Dean murmured as they fell asleep.

 

And in the night, the aurora softened and lifted, and the moon swung full over Breckenridge.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

 

Dean came out of sleep gradually, when something warm and wet and sweet smelling slid down from his hair to the back of his neck and across his shoulders. He thought he was still dreaming about surfing with Sam somewhere in the Caribbean, someplace warm, Sam beside him as he lost the board and swam lazily up through warm foaming waves. Sam’s strong arms holding him close and his lips tracing kisses along his cheek and his neck.

 

When he realized that he was standing on something hard, Dean slowly pushed away sleep, but kept the thoughts of Sam. Until he let his eyes drift open and saw that he was leaning against his brother. Sam whispered “Good morning” and continued to wash him in the steady shower of warm water, lathering him with mild liquid soap, rinsing him with water and kisses.

 

“Sammy?” Dean coughed a little and cleared his throat. “How-“

 

“Sshhh…Take your time. I’m here.” Dean looked up at him and smiled, still relaxed from their loving only a few hours earlier. “I love you.”

 

Dean started to reach for the washcloth Sam held, but his little brother shook his head and murmured “For you. Only for you.” One finger at a time, moving steadily and gently, Sam cleaned his hands and slowly caressed the washcloth down Dean’s abs, into the seam of his groin, loving and gentle on his cock and balls, even gentler between his legs. On his knees, he lathered and gentle as only he could be, rinsed and kissed his way up toward Dean’s back. Washed all the scars clean and the delicate shells of Dean’s ears, the back of his neck, the soft, sensitive skin just to the front of his ear, over his jaw.

 

Dean let himself do something he rarely did and only did with Sam. He let himself relax, let himself trust and lean back against his brother, feeling Sam’s chest, the solid muscles there and in his abs. Holding him, supporting him. “Sammy?” breath tight. “Sammy?”

 

Immediately, Sam’s arms closed around him, wrapping him from shoulders to waist, then, slowly, releasing and finding his nipples already hard, his cock full. ‘Dean, I want to make love to you again.”

 

“Yesss,” he whispered. Across his cheeks, he felt the pubic hair at the base of Sam’s erection and moaned as Sam’s cock pushed at him. Too soon! Not-ohhhhh. As Sam’s lips closed on the shell of his ear and suckled gently, as his tongue slid deep into Dean’s ear canal and thrust, twisting in the small space then pulling out and tracing behind his ear, only the pointed tip of his tongue there. The other ear received the same treatment, and Sam reached down and carefully took Dean’s cock in his right hand.

 

Just held it for a moment feeling it stiffen and shudder a little. Dean’s breath staggered and he flailed feebly with one hand, moaned more loudly when Sam caught it and sucked one finger and after that another into his mouth, sliding his tongue between two, wrapping it around each in turn. “Please, Sammy?”

 

Felt Sam’s head move as he nodded. He didn’t have any idea what Sam used for lube, didn’t care. Slow and careful, not stopping, Sam eased into Dean until he was buried tight and connected _bodyheartsoul_ _nowthenalways_ to his brother. Dean reached up and back for Sam, smiled when he kissed his palm.

 

They began to move together, the rhythm the same as it ever was, but different. More careful, more aware, they relearned each other’s bodies as Sam’s cock swelled inside Dean and Dean reached for his own cock in response.

 

“No-Dean-not yet-please-” Sam grunted. “Give me your hand. Here. Do you feel that?” The wonder in his voice came clearly through to Dean as Sam placed his finger tips on Sam’s cock where it entered Dean’s body. He wrapped his fingers around Dean’s and they groaned at the sensation. Dean went very quiet as he tried to keep his feet. “You’re my life. You’re my heart. You’re my soul. I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 

“Sammy-” Helpless to say anything when Sam had already said it all, when he could feel at their joining what Sam couldn’t put into words, Dean strained to turn his head and kiss Sam.

 

Sam moved slowly, deeply inside Dean. Picked up the pace as Dean pressed harder against him, and reached for Dean’s rigid cock. They sank into each other, long strokes shortening and becoming more intense as they deepened their bond. Dean felt himself begin to come and cried Sam’s name as he did, bringing Sam with him. Truly feeling Sam’s seed as it entered him and filled him, knowing it to be a reflection of the love that Sam had always, would always bear for him.

 

Panting, they rested for a few minutes. Sam eased himself gently from Dean and reached around him to turn off the shower water. He realized when Dean’s cheeks stayed wet that the water wasn’t water, but tears. Tears that melted over the smile on Dean’s lips and were smoothed against Sam’s lips when Dean kissed him.

 

Sam ducked his head and smiled as he pulled a towel off the rack near the shower door and wrapped it around Dean’s shoulders. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Hmmm? No you can’t drive the Impala,” Dean replied. Sam laughed until the walls echoed.

 

Before he pulled a small box out from under the pile of face towels nest to the bath towels. “Dean. Please, would you-” 

 

“You’re asking me when I’m naked and dripping and -”

 

“I needed every advantage I could think of.” He interrupted, smiling shyly. “ Will you wear this for me?” The ring was gold, plain on the outside, simply inscribed on the inside. “ _S.W. et D.W. duos iam unus_ ”

 

“Will you wear it?” Silently, Sam held up his left hand, where the mate to Dean’s ring rested around his third finger. Wide eyed, lost for words, Dean caught Sam’s hand and kissed the ring he wore. And nodded. Only one word made its way out. “Yes” and that a whisper.

 

Dean watched Sam put the ring on his left hand, third finger and blushed although hell would freeze over before he’d ever admit to it. Smiling like lovestruck teenagers, they lost track of time, trying to absorb what had happened.

 

 

They head the decisive knock at the bathroom door and sighed simultaneously. “Sammy? Tonight? My turn!” Dean joked, just a little.

 

“We’ll see,” Sam countered knowingly.

 

They opened the bathroom door expecting to see John.

 

Instead, a stranger with startling blue eyes and a quiet demeanor looked at them.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Before the stranger had even finished his sentence, Dean had pulled Sam behind him. “Stay behind me, Sam.”

 

Sam flashed a look at Dean but did as he’d been told. There were times when Dean being protective was almost as dangerous to the person being protected as he was to any potential threats. 

 

“Dean, the wards and sigils are still in place. The innocent is protected, as are your father and Sam.” A faint smile quirked the visitor’s lips. “You might want to get some clothes on.”

 

The smile faded and open concern flooded the face of the man who had, apparently, walked through wards designed to trap any being with evil intent foolish enough to cross them. “I wouldn’t have done things this way, but we do need to talk.”

 

Abruptly, Dean nodded and sighed. 

 

“Do I know you?” Sam couldn’t remember ever meeting the man who watched him. 

 

“No.” Again that quiet smile that lost itself under the neatly trimmed moustache blue eyes wore.

 

“But you know Dean.”

 

“A bit.” 

 

“Enigmatic answers aren’t always a good idea. Especially with Dean, man.”

 

“He’s right, though, Sammy.” Dean turned and looked into Sam’s eyes. “Grab some clothes.” He smiled as he looked down at the ring on his left hand, looked back up at Sam. “Dear.” Sam pulled back, startled, and then whacked Dean across the ass. 

 

“Put something warm on, baby.” Dean eyed Sam narrowly and smiled just a bit.

 

“How did I get into the shower?”

 

“Carried you.” Sam replied lightly. “Easy. No, those are my socks. Yours are the little ones.”

 

“Well, I suppose I can have one thing that’s little,” Dean mumbled to himself. “Teeth. Coffee.”

 

Their visitor hadn’t moved from his spot at the end of the bed. But Dean felt it in the air – the charge of energy that results from something doing a lot of thinking. Maybe the stiffness of the shoulders gave some sort of clue. He didn’t know. And with Sam’s hand stroking his ass, he couldn’t bring himself to question.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“You said that before.”

 

“And I don’t have much time right now to talk with you. So I’m going to talk at you. It’s quicker.”

 

“Dean, wait. Mister, where do you know us from?” Sam asked the question quietly, but his eyes had narrowed, and he unconsciously stepped closer to Dean.

 

“You were sleeping, Sam.” 

 

“It was in Templeton. A year and a half ago, Sammy.” Dean cocked his head to one side and grinned at their company. Who nodded and then smiled quietly, even the flinty blue eyes glinting at the memory.

 

****

 

_Bagatelle’s business didn’t generally start booming until about ten p.m., when the young professionals hit it for the weekend. At the far more sedate hour of six p.m., only nine people occupied the restaurant and bar._

_One quiet, bespectacled man in a worn Dale Earnhardt jacket bent over a journal in which he was writing, absentmindedly sipping black, strong coffee from a dark green mug near his left hand. A couple, totally oblivious to the world around them, held hands across their table and stared into each other’s eyes while they whispered together. Three suits, two charcoal and one navy, drank at the piano bar. The live music wouldn’t start until nine. Their voices carried clearly as they sipped Patron, just as they had after work on Friday for years._

_One guy sat at the bar sipping Jack and ice, ignoring everyone else. Bent with tiredness, fair hair every which way but straight, leather jacket aged as the Catskills, he still managed to be polite to the barkeep, Sarah. When she asked him a question, he shook his head and smiled, dropping at least twenty years from the expression on his face when he did so._

_Leather jacket set his glass on the bar, nodded to Sarah and walked quietly out the door._

_A few seconds later, navy suit leaned closer to the charcoal suits, spoke a few words and looked around the restaurant “We’ll be back. Keep our place for us,” Charcoal One commanded the waitress. Not for the first time, she wondered why assholes like those three sipped tequila they didn’t have the class to begin to understand._

_Off they moved, three jackals on the hunt. The minute the restaurant door clicked shut, Earnhardt jacket looked up over a sip of coffee, glance skittering from one face to another. “Sarah? Please keep an eye on my journal. I’ll be back for it.”_

_“Are you guys having a party I don’t know about?” the waitress asked, teasing._

_“If those men aren’t back in ten minutes, call the police, please,” was all the man said. Sarah’s face went pale and she nodded. He smiled just a bit, carefully placed his journal on the polished mahogany bar and walked silently out into the night._

_Dean heard the men approaching, two to one side, and one directly behind him. He was dog tired and short tempered. Sam had finally fallen asleep after three hellacious, nightmare filled nights following their latest hunt, and his older brother had escaped for a few minutes of relaxation. He knew that Sam wouldn’t make it through the night without waking up, but Sam had told him that he’d be all right alone. He also threatened to stay awake if Dean didn’t get out and have a few minutes for himself. Reluctant, Dean compromised and agreed to 35 minutes. Not one minute more. And here he was, being followed by Suits on a rampage? If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have laughed._

_He figured that the suits, who’d shown up each night since his and Sam’s arrival in Templeton, had gone vigilante: they’d been openly hostile when he and Sam had walked into the restaurant the first night._

_“Hey, fag boy.” Yup, vigilante. He sighed and shook his head, not wanting to waste an erg on the three of them._

_Dean kept walking, although he did a mental check of his weapons just in case. Three against one-not good odds, but he’d had worse._

_“HEY! We’re talking to you, fag boy! Where’s your boyfriend? “_

_Dean heard the two on lateral approach split up side against side and weighed the possibilities. He’d taken the side street on the north side of the restaurant because the little motel he and Sam had found to hole up in lay in a straight line along that street. He wasn’t about to run or lead the three assholes anywhere near Sammy. Without seeming too obvious, Dean scouted the area to locate the safest place for him to face the suits._

_“Excuse me.” A fourth voice, quiet and almost tentative, broke into the moment. Threw the three suits off balance._

_“Hey, it’s the Earnhardt wanna- be! Get back inside, old man. This isn’t any of your business.”_

_“Hmmm.” Thoughtfully, the man considered what Navy blue had growled. “That right?”_

_“Yeah. So get back to whatever the hell you were doing-”_

_Evidently, what Earnhardt wanna-be was doing was walking toward Dean. No expression, not a word, just covering the rapidly shrinking distance between Dean and the suits._

_“HEY! Didn’t you hear me?”_

_“Hell, if he wants to get in the middle of this, it’s his loss. C’mon. Pretty boy’s used to dick up his ass. Wonder how he’d handle a fist up it.”_

_“You should get out of here, “Dean muttered to the guy. Who grinned like a coyote laughing and shook his head. “I can handle this.”_

_“Yeah. I know. But this makes it more even.”_

_A faint click punctuated the sentence and Dean looked down to see one pretty nasty looking unfolded folded Desert Mule K-bar in the man’s grip. Dean nodded and stepped up beside the guy, pulling his own Bowie, leaving his handgun out of the equation. These were humans: normally, he didn’t do them harm. Well, much harm._

_Charcoals One and Two and Navy One came to a dead halt. “Look, fella-you don’t want to be mixed up in this-just go on your way and forget you saw us. We have business with fag boy over there.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah. He ain’t nothin’ but a-“_

_“Don’t.”_

_“Look-” Charcoal one’s voice faltered and went quiet._

_Dean realized that whoever the guy was, he had taken control of the situation._

_“I’m going to say this one time. Stay the fuck away from him. “_

_“Yeah? Or what?”_

_The stranger stood straighter and stared at his and Dean’s three opponents. Loose shoulders, even breathing, and complete and utter certainty spun off him. Then, still silent, he smiled._

_Dean caught a sidelong glimpse of that smile and knew, absolutely, just what that smile had meant. Fortunately for their longevity, the suits figured it out, too._

_“Hell, I’m not going to beat up on some crazy old asshole just to do one scrawny fag. Let’s get back to our drinks. He knows to stay away from here.”_

_“You keep away from the restaurant, fag boy! This guy…”_

_“This guy” had taken four steps toward Navy Blue. No fancy tricks, no showing off. Just four steps and a slight cock of his head to one side. And the beginnings of that coyote smile._

_Thirty seconds later, Dean and the quiet man stood in an empty side street._

_The guy laughed softly as he shut and pocketed his knife. Dean slid his Bowie back into the sheath on his inside left arm._

_“Thanks.”_

_“Hmm-” Without another word, but by mutual consent, Dean and the guy headed toward the motel where Sam lay sleeping, waiting for his lover. At the door of the motel room, Dean hesitated and tried to figure out what to say._

_“He’s waking up. Don’t go back to that restaurant. ”_

_“We won’t. The job’s over anyway…”_

_“Good. Get out of town while the getting’s good.”_

_“Can I ask you something?”_

_Head cocked to one side, the guy nodded. Those guys. They would have been-”_

_“Yeah.” Just a sliver of steel burned in those deep blue eyes. He nodded toward the motel room door. “Go on.”_

_Sammy had stirred and was peering forlornly into the shadowy dark when Dean opened the motel room door and slipped inside. Locked it again and made sure the salt line had not been broken._

_Yawning cavernously, Sam rubbed his left hand across his face and mumbled “You got back.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Dean, what is it?”_

_“Sammy, stay in bed. The floor’s cold, baby.”_

_“Dean? What happened?”_

_Dean took a quick look out the motel room window. Still within a few feet of the motel, perched on the Impala’s trunk, the older man caught sight of Dean and nodded. Turned back to his watch on the street. Dean took a second look, almost positive he’d seen ears sticking out around the guys’ Earnhardt cap. “Too damn tired. Time to get some sleep.”_

_“Dean?”_

_Dean slid into bed and pulled Sammy into his arms, kissed him lightly on the temple and replied thoughtfully. “I’m not sure, Sammy. Go to sleep again-I got ya.”_

_When Dean and Sam left the motel to hit the road at 0330, the street lay deserted._

 

 

****

 

Sam nodded as Dean finished telling what he remembered. 

 

“Sam wants to know why I’m here now.”

 

“You think?” Sam snapped. “And keep it down. Dad and Jeff are still sleeping.”

 

“It’s partly about them that I’m here. And I’m here partly about you two. And partly about the other two of you.” 

 

“Do you always speak in riddles?”

 

“Not a riddle. More of a puzzle.” A frown deepened in the other man’s eyes and down his face. “Keep the two of them safe,” he spoke seriously and nodded back toward Jeff and John’s room.“The younger one is injured in body and in mind. But the worst damage is to his spirit.” Again the frown appeared. “He needs time to heal. And there may not be enough of that. Things are happening quickly. More quickly than – never mind. Watch them. Don’t interfere with them. The older one-“

 

“He’s our father,” Sam interrupted. 

 

“You’re an adult now.”

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

“Not by me, you haven’t,” Dean interjected smoothly.

 

“Enough.” Just one word, but the two men hearing it settled immediately. “You’re an adult. Remind him that he doesn’t need to treat you like young children.” A wry smile and a little chuckle escaped him as he said that aloud. “You’ll always be his children. But he has other priorities now.”

 

“Jeff.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“We need to get him to a doctor, find out what happened, why those four had him.”

 

Dean nodded in agreement. “Do you have any idea where those assholes went? They’re kidnappers. They tortured Jeff.”

 

“He’s beyond their reach right now. They have their own concerns.” He smiled, but the expression boded ill for the kidnappers.

 

“Do you have a name?” Sam asked impatiently.

 

“I do.” He sat watching Sam, weighing the meaning behind Sam’s question. He didn’t offer a name, however. Dean remembered suddenly that all he’d heard of the man’s name was the name of someone else: Dale Earnhardt. His eyes widened as his mind snapped into focus.

 

“Are you Dale Earnhardt? Were you Dale Earnhardt, I mean? Can we at least call you Dale? Just to have a freakin’ name?”

 

He considered for a heartbeat, and the frown never left his face. “Yes. As far as it goes, you can. No farther.”

 

“I don’t get it, sir.” Sam pressed. “How can a name only go so far?”

 

“Sometime when there is time, we’ll talk, you and I. You should already know the answer to that, Sam Winchester.”

 

“More riddles.”

 

“More puzzles.” Something caught Dale’s attention and, abruptly, Dean and Sam realized that his ears, dog’s ears – no coyote’s ears- had pricked up and turned toward the main room. After a few seconds, he trained his stare back on Sam and Dean. And Dean’s knife. And Sam’s Colt. 

 

“Trickster. You’re a trickster,” Sam’s words grated out of a tone of voice that Dean had never heard before. 

 

“No more than are you.”

 

“What are you?”

 

“Tell me what you think I am.”

 

“No more riddles! Sam-“Dean felt Sam step behind him and nodded shortly. “Stay there.”

 

“I am no enemy. And I wish that I could stay longer this time. Listen to me now. Sort it out after I’ve gone.” He sighed and snapped that katana sharp gaze at them.

 

“Your father – John – and Jeff are True Met. They are meant to be one. Together. Don’t argue or ask. Just listen. For now – do everything in your power to heal Jeff physically and to help him heal his heart and soul. He is badly injured. Have a care, however. John is his best healer. And his true mate.”

 

“Like soul mate?” Dean asked.

 

“Deeper than that. Your father or not, John’s first thought now is for Jeff. They are just beginning, and it is – unsettled. Presume nothing. Remember, John’s first thought is for his mate.” For a few seconds, Dale frowned, weighing rapidly what else he should say. When he looked up, his gaze again calculated what he was seeing in front of him.

 

“You are mated. That was always clear. What hasn’t been clear until last night is just what your mating is. You are vulnerable, after last night and until you are more settled. Don’t go anywhere without the other. If you can help it, stay here until Jeff is strong enough to move.”

 

“The other two of you have just fallen into focus. Others are watching for their safety. But what I’ve seen and felt in the past few hours tells me that they should be brought here, if possible.”

 

“Who are they?”

 

“That I’m not going to say. Even thinking about them is dangerous now. Jeff will be able to bring them. When he is ready. Don’t attempt to rush him. The other two are being watched and protected. There’s a little time. Not much, but a little.”

 

Abruptly, Dale’s cell phone rang. Startled all over again, Sam blinked his eyes. “A cell phone?”

 

“I’m not that old fashioned. Believe me. Everything isn’t as it seems, Sam.”

 

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

 

Dale listened to whomever had called him. With a long sigh, he closed the phone and glanced back up at Dean and Sam. “I’ll come back when I can. Be careful. And remember what I said about John. And the other two of you.”

 

“Wait! I-“ Dean blinked again and stared in bewilderment at the empty spot where Dale had sat. “What the hell?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you think he was a trickster?”

 

“Dean, I didn’t – you know - get that weird feeling off him. I don’t know how else to put it. Dale Earnhardt? The NASCAR driver?”

 

“I wonder if he was this guy all along. Nah, Earnhardt would have been too stubborn to put up with someone wearing him.”

 

“I don’t get that feeling, either. This is something else again. Damnit, what do we tell Dad?”

 

“How do we tell Dad?”

 

“And, besides sounding like a really bad CD title, who the hell are the ‘other two of us’?”

 

“These and other questions,” Dean intoned dramatically “will be answered in the next episode of The Weird and Wacky World of the Supernatural.” More lightly, he added, “Or Tuesday. Whichever comes first.” 

 

Sam just gaped at Dean and then burst into laughter. “I think we’d better go and wake up Dad. We’ve already come first today.”

 

Dean’s expression settled into earnestness. “Patience, grasshopper. You will learn the art of humor. In your next lifetime.”

 

“Thank you, my master. Not!” Sam retorted. He toed into his sneakers and padded quietly to their bedroom door. “I don’t hear anything. They might still be asleep.” Beside him, Dean took Sam’s left hand in his and stared at the two matching rings, then up at Sam. For another few moments, they lost themselves in each other.

 

“Dean? Sam?” John’s voice, muted behind his bedroom door, finally broke through their concentration on each other. “Are you out there?” He sounded wrecked. Five seconds later, Dean opened his dad’s bedroom door and hurried in. Sam smelled it before he’d taken a step. The smell of a sickroom, of fever and injuries.

 

Jeff still slept, but lightly and feverishly. “He’s burning up. We have to get him to a doctor whether he wants one or not. Sammy?” John glanced at his younger son and watched as he carefully raised the sheet that rested lightly on Jeff’s back. The injuries didn’t look much worse than they had earlier that morning, but Jeff had definitely lost ground.

 

“Dad, Hal knows a doctor he trusts to keep his mouth shut. I’m going to call Hal and see if he can get hold of the guy.”

 

“Whatever you can do. l Dean-Sam, I can’t lose him. Help us-please?” Only dire emergency could have wrung that word from John. Sam shivered just once and remembered what Dale had said. 

 

Dean bit back a smart assed expression after one look into his dad’s anguished eyes. “Let me go and ask Hal to call the doctor. Sammy, is there anything we can do for him?”

 

Cool him down a little, maybe in a tepid shower. Dad, do you think you can help him?”

 

“What? “ Distracted, John absorbed Sam’s few words and then nodded sharply. “Sam, go get the water started. Jeff? Jeff, can you hear me? Open your eyes. Hi!”

 

“J…John? “ He hauled in a breath and John heard the rattling of fluid building on his lungs. 

 

“Make sure Hal tells his doctor friend that we’re dealin’ with pneumonia. Now.”

 

That was the John Winchester his sons recognized. Dean scrambled to get over to the main house, Sam headed for the shower and, gently as if he was lifting a baby, John eased Jeff out of bed and carried him right behind Sam. “Dad, there’s only one really bad spot. I’m guessing that he’s just so worn out the pneumonia has had a chance to get in.” Sam held Jeff while John stripped off the boxer briefs he wore. Still clad in his own T-shirt and boxers, John took Jeff from Sam and stepped under the shower with him. All business, the hunter frowned at the start of a smile on Sam’s face. “You know as well as I do that I need traction to keep him on his feet. So stop lookin’ like that, okay?”

 

“Yessir. Dean – we’re in the bathroom!”

 

“Hal called the doctor. His name’s Mellows. He’ll be here in an hour. Dad, do you want one of us to spell you if he gets too heavy?”

 

“No.” John snapped the word so sharply that Jeff stirred and shivered. Startled himself at his own reaction, John flushed and glanced at Dean. “I mean, not unless it takes this doctor too long to get out here.”

 

“Dad, it’s okay.” Sam soothed. Expecting his father to snarl a Winchester _Don’t-talk-to-me –like-that_ comment, Dean just gaped when John nodded and turned his attention back to Jeff. “We should get him out of there, dad. He’s getting goose bumps.” Sam shook his head at Dean’s questioning look. All he could hear was Dale saying that Dad and Jeff were true met. Whatever the hell that meant. 

 

Paul Mellows turned out to be a young, very efficient doctor who took one look at Jeff and his injuries and opened the medical bag he’d brought with him. “How did these happen?”

 

“He was kidnapped.” Sam kept explanation to a bare minimum. “We got him away from the guys. But they-uh-played with him.”

 

“Tortured him.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Was he raped?” And the doctor’s tone of voice allowed for no misinterpretation. 

 

“No.” Jeff managed, speaking only to John, who knelt by the bed, stroking the side of the younger man’s face, murmuring nonsense sounds to him. “Not-that-hurts…”

 

At that word, John caught Jeff’s left hand between his two and consciously willed _calm. No pain_ into Jeff’s mind. Wide eyed, Jeff whispered, “John?” and watched those sable eyes open, warming and quieting him in just a glance. Startled, the doctor nonetheless set to work quickly, doing a thorough cleaning and introducing enough penicillin into Jeff’s system to fight off several attacks of pneumonia simultaneously. “Whoever did the triage here did a good job. Smart of you not to try to stitch the injury shut. But Bobby has told me a dozen times that the Winchester men are the best doctors in the hunting community.”

 

Hal, who had gone no farther than the door of the bedroom, hooted his laughter at the thunderstruck looks on Sam’s, Dean’s and John’s faces. “I’ll be darned! I actually know someone in the hunting world that you _don’t_ know!”

 

“Mellows…wait…are you related to Jerry Mellows?” Dean asked. “Used to live in New Orleans.”

 

“Yep – he’s a cousin on my dad’s side. You saved his life twice, Dean. He told me about it when I was going through a rough patch in med school. I love my cousin.” his face turned a little red. 

 

“He’s actually visiting his sister in Oregon right now, or I would have brought him along. Dean, you saved both our lives when you saved his. And I decided to repay the debt the best way I knew how.”

 

“Up here?” Dean asked, thinking that being a doctor to wealthy tourists who developed severe hangnails or some other dreaded disease was a fairly light weight trade off.

 

“This is a major cross way on the hunter roads in this country.” John spoke rarely about the very clandestine larger hunting world. Both of his sons knew that John’s reputation as a patterner was widely respected among that suspicious and oftentimes paranoid community. So, when he made flat statements, they were taken at face value. Sam cocked his head to one side, listening. Wondering how many hunters had come through the Ten Mile Peaks over the years. Dean’s gentle squeeze around his waist pulled him back to the present.

 

“I think I know who this is,” Dr. Mellows continued. He glanced down at Jeff’s frightened face and knelt by him. Very quietly, he reassured his patient. “Jeff, I’m not going to tell anyone where you are. Doctor patient privilege, remember?” Jeff nodded shakily. “Can I tell John what your name is?”

 

“I already know his name.”

 

“All of your name.”

 

“No-I –do. John?” Jeff floundered over to lie on his side, never letting go of John, watching him. “My name- I- am Jeffrey Dean Morgan.”

 

“That’s a nice name. Jeffrey Dean Morgan.”

“Actor.”

 

“All right. I don’t go to the movies much. Jeff, what’s wrong?”

 

“I-” 

 

John felt the pain spiraling up Jeff’s spine and into his head and directed it toward himself swiftly, grounding the hurt straight through his body and into the floor. Reacting instinctively. 

 

“Sssshhh. Don’t try to talk. Doc, what are you trying to do to him? He’s still weak as a newborn!” John resisted the urge to pull Jeff into his lap and to shelter him away from everyone.

 

“John?” Jeff couldn’t stop the damn tears. And he couldn’t breathe because crying clogged up his damn nose. “I - TV.” His eyelids fluttered and he felt his strength melting away.

 

“Okay. That’s all right. Jeff? Stay here. Don’t go doin’ something stupid. Doc?”

 

“I - role on a show -Supernatural.” The room started spinning and he felt the ends of his fingers tingle as he slipped out of consciousness. “- John Winchester. I played you. And you-and you died.” His breath hitched and he mumbled something else “This week?” And darkness fell away from him; he tumbled after it unresisting.

 

“Doc! He’s barely breathing!”

 

“Go after him, Dad! If Dale was right, you can do it. Go after him! Call him back!”

 

“Sam, what the hell are you talking about? Who the bloody hell is Dale? Doc!”

 

“Dad, close your eyes, focus on Jeff and call him back to you!” Sam had only a hunch to go on. He crushed John’s shoulder in his left hand and urged “I have you here! Go after him and bring him back. Tell him to come home to you!” 

 

John gaped at Sam and, for possibly the first time in his life, obeyed his younger son’s orders without question. Eyes squeezed shut, aware of Sam grasping his right shoulder so hard it hurt, he stepped down into the dark behind his eyelids and went after Jeff. “I don’t-Jeff!” was all he could think. “Come back to me! Come back!” 

 

Darkness dropped and dropped away and he couldn’t see Jeff anywhere, anywhen. Until, desperate and unable to find his way, he remembered his colorsong. “If you know where he is, where that silverblue of his is,” he thought to the greengold ribboning thing, “find him and bring him back to me. Bring him back.”

 

He had no idea how much time had passed: Sam’s grip on his shoulder morphed into a pale grey light that signaled the way back. Far away and what seemed to be up, he spotted his colorsong is it searched at his command. “Jeffrey Dean Morgan, I need you here beside me! Come back to me!” he thought, lips clamped shut, gaze focused on the tiny wisp of green gold alone in the odd, swirling brown-grey light. “Come back to me.” Not giving an inch, although he knew that what he was doing was an idea born of desperation. “Come back to us. I need you. I am _not_ without you here.” The words unspoken, their truth blinding. “Come back to me. Please-”

 

Dean didn’t move, just stared at his Sammy growing paler and shakier, his expression more and more remote as the seconds ticked by. Sam stood right there in front of him, but Dean knew that his lover had drifted into whatever place John had thrown himself. Abruptly, Dean remembered what Dale had said. _Don’t go anywhere without the other._ “Sammy? Sammy, are you there?” he called. No response. Wait-there. Sam’s eyelids opened slightly and then closed again.

 

Dean grabbed on to Sam’s free hand and planted his feet solid to the floor, resisting any pull any other way. For a few seconds, Sam’s fingers didn’t curl around his, and Dean whispered, “Sammy, come back to me. C’mon.” 

 

Sam inhaled sharply at the precise instant his hand clamped tight around Dean’s. “Dean, stay with me.” Sam’s voice sounded steady and calm, but Dean’s fingers being crushed in Sam’s grip told the true tale. 

 

“Jeff? Jeffrey Dean Morgan! You get your ass back here and tell me what’s wrong. You don’t get to just leave me alone!” John hadn’t spoken aloud, but he _thought_ plenty loud and sure.

 

_Intention. Finally._ John could have sworn that he heard those two words. 

 

There, out almost to the edge of the horizon, _there_. Silver blue and, deepforest green and sungold, there and coming back fast. “That’s more like it.” he thought. He caught his colorsong and Jeff’s and reached back to latch on to Sam’s beaconing home. 

 

***

 

 

He heard something-voice, that was it – saying his name. There had been smoky brown and he’d been falling. Falling and John couldn’t find him and had sent the color song to help. And he’d tried to run so John wouldn’t die. Because John Winchester had died and he had died a little when that had happened because he’d fallen in love with John Winchester who didn’t exist and didn’t that make him insane? But John Winchester did exist and Jeff didn’t want him to die so he’d run into his mind, but that wasn’t where he’d ended up. And John had come for him again. Like in the restaurant, but that might be a dream and then he’d wake up and they would still be there laughing at him. 

 

He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t. Arms around him. Holding him and they were going to hurt him again. “John? _John please John don’t die_. 

 

Those same arms that held him still cradled him loosely, well away from the worst of his injuries. “Jeff, c’mon. Open your eyes. Just a little bit. If you do, I’ll give you my jacket for keeps.” John. His John. Not a dream. His not a dream John who had come for him and rescued him. “You’re here in Breckenridge. You’re here in my arms and safe.” His voice softened and he chuckled, “Or as safe as you can be around me.”

 

Jeff laughed, although he personally thought it sounded more like a sob. And John chuckled again under his “Open your eyes. Just a little way.”

 

Obediently, Jeff did as he’d been told. And looked trustingly up into John’s face.

 

“Stay with me?” The “please” remained unspoken but was right there under his words. Jeff nodded sleepily and yawned. “Tired?” Again a nod, and he turned his face toward John’s chest, ready to sleep as long as John was close by.

 

“Well, that was interesting,” Dean muttered.


	9. Chapter 8

“Dean, I don’t think they even know we’re here.” 

 

“Dad and Jeff?”

 

“No, the IRS. Of course Dad and Jeff.”

 

“Feelin’ left out, Sam?”

 

“Cut it out, Dean. I can’t forget what the -whatever he is – Dale, Coyote, whatever – said. He was worried.”

 

“And you know that, how?

 

“I just know it. That’s all.” Morose, Sam dumped another spoonful of sugar into his coffee and stirred it mechanically. For three minutes. While he thought. Dean watched the whirlpool that formed in Sam’s mug and grinned, waiting for his baby brother to realize what he was doing before the contents of his mug took off under its own centripetal force. Sam didn’t. It did. All over the counter top.

 

“Shit! Dean, what the…”

 

“That was all you, baby brother. Better mop it up or whatever you’re thinkin‘ll end up skidding across the counter on your coffee.”

 

“Just what I always wanted: a comedian.”

 

“And you got me! “ 

 

Sam laughed to himself and flushed, remembering that he had had Dean, only a few hours earlier. Dean flushed when he figured out what Sam was flushing about. They cleared their throats simultaneously and stretched their shoulders, first the left side and then the right to loosen them. For a minute, they stared at the rings on each other’s hands and, when their gazes met again, spent entirely too long just staring into each other’s eyes. Dean leaned forward and met Sam leaning toward him. 

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Good morning.”

 

The kiss was gentle, the tangle of tongues only play, but the feeling behind their words and their actions had deepend, become something other than what it had been. Deeper and peaceful, but powerful, immensely powerful. Dean cupped Sam’s cheek in his hand and pulled back a millimeter. “I love you.” To Sam’s surprise, the tear that trailed down a cheek belonged to Dean rather than to himself. Gentle, he kissed the salt wetness away and kissed Dean again, instinctively letting his brother deepen the caress and control it. 

 

Five minutes later, when they came up for air, Sam rested his forehead against Dean’s and murmured, ““I’ve done some research. “ He didn’t manage another word around Dean’s long suffering sigh. “Research?”

 

“Yeah. About Jeff. There are people out there who are half crazy looking for him. There was this one interview with some guy named Kripke. Dude looked like he’d been crying all night. Or he’d had an allergy attack. Our Jeffrey is pretty well liked, I’d say. There’re a lot of mentions of a guy named Jared. And another guy: Jensen. They’re scared that Jeff’s dead. Dean, he was kidnapped five weeks ago! He needs to let people know he’s alive!”

 

“Doctor Mellows – can you believe that Dad didn’t know he took care of hunters? – anyway, Dr. Mellows said loud and clear that Jeff needs to tell people when he’s ready to do it. He thinks it’s important.”

 

Sam huffed a laugh, remembering. “The look on Dad’s face when Dr. Mellows mentioned Bobby? I start laughing every time I think about it!”

 

“Which is why you started laughing last night?

 

“Cut it out! You tickled the crap outa me! I hate it when you do that!”

 

“Hence me doing it.” Dean rejoined, smugly. More seriously, he continued, “Maybe the doc’s not right about this one.”

 

“I’ve done some research on post traumatic stress disorder, Dean.”

 

“More research? Why am I not surprised?”

 

“Stuff it, Dean. I did it a long time ago just in case I need it for _you_ someday. Ouch! Everything I’ve read says that the doc’s thinking the right way. Jeff needs to do it on his own. I just hope he can do it soon. He’s slipping backward. The more he remembers the worse he is around everyone but Dad.”

 

“Are they awake yet?”

 

“Went for a walk right after I rolled out of bed. Jeff let go of Dad’s hand for almost a minute. And he smiled and at least tried to say Good Morning. Didn’t get the words out, but his lips moved and he said my name. I think.”

 

“That’s something. Right, Sam?”

 

“Not enough.”

 

Sam stood up and walked to the nearest window. “They’re out by the truck. Wait-that’s just Dad. Where the hell is Jeff? Dean, I don’t see Jeff.”

 

“Hold on. Sam, Dad’s up to something. My guess? He’s doing that old hide and seek trick he used to do with us when we were little. He’d tell us he was going to hide. We’d count to twenty and then we had to find him. Man, were you scared the first couple of times. You never even saw him standing within ten feet of you.”

 

“I was six, Dean. And you were probably the same way. Weren’t you? Go on, tell me you weren’t!”

 

“I was older. I spotted him right away. But I do that kind of thing.”

 

“Oh tell me why, older brother.”

 

“There! You got it without me! I knew you’d figure it out.”

 

Sam exhaled and rolled his eyes, then snapped at glance back out toward John.

 

“Jeff’s not a little boy.”

 

“Have you looked at his eyes? Oh for God’s sake, you ijit, not _tha_ t way! Have you looked at his eyes?” Dean strolled over and stared out the same window Sam had claimed. Grim and quiet, Dean continued. “He terrified. Of everything. And everyone. Except Dad. Right now, he’s more a little kid than you usually are. Dad’s building his confidence. He knows right where Jeff is and he’s not going to let anything happen to him. I’m betting Jeff’s walking up from the main road right now.”

 

“Too far. He’s still all bones.” 

 

“Sammy, Dad’s on it. Watch him. He’ll be right there when Jeff gets to the top of the rise.

 

“Is this what he did when we-?”

 

“Yup. He’d tail along and watch us follow his track, and then double back so we could find him. He always kept us safe, Sammy. He’ll do the same thing with Jeff.”

 

John strolled toward the top of the low rise and cocked his head to one side, clearly watching something. Thirty seconds later, Jeff reached him and hugged his arms tight around the hunter, buried his face in John’s shirt. Gentle, John stroked the other man’s hair and kissed his forehead. 

 

“He’s too scared, Dean. I can see him shaking. Dad’s pushing too fast.”

 

“Trust Dad with this, okay? He’s watching Jeff like a hawk. And he knows we’re watchin’ him. Which he’s going to tell us if we don’t get out of this window. “

 

Sure enough, John glanced over his shoulder and squinted at Dean and Sam. They retreated.

 

“Jeff?” John tilted Jeff’s chin up and smiled into his eyes. The brown eyes that looked back at him seemed less fearful than they had been.

 

“John?”

 

“Dr. Mellows ‘ll be here in about twenty minutes. No, don’t look like that. He wants to check you over and weigh you. That’s all. “

 

“You’re there?”

 

“I’m there.” Arms still wrapped around Jeff, John added “Jeff, I want you to walk over to the car. You like the Impala. Go on. I’ll be there as soon as I get – er- something out of the truck.” Jeff hesitated, glancing over at the car, which Dean had parked near a couple of trees. Not under, because pine sap would have played havoc with the Impala’s paint job. But near. Where things could be waiting. “Jeff, it’s safe.” The certainty in John’s voice quieted Jeff’s panic. “It’s all right. Go on, now. Remember to keep an eye out – even when something’s safe, it’s a good idea to know where you are.”

 

“Like a hunter.”

 

“Like a hunter.”

 

Jeff hauled in a deep breath and exhaled. Twenty yards away, the Impala stared back at him, and Jeff wanted to believe that the car was encouraging him to come closer. That it meant safety. But- he focused as hard as he could on a little thought that skittered through his mind, bent on its own business. One quick glance back at John, who nodded toward the car, and off he went.

 

He felt like he’d jumped into the deep end of the swimming pool and had forgotten how to swim. “Just keep on going, Jeff. Look up. Tell me what you see.” John’s voice held only encouragement and warmth. This was a game that he’d played with the boys to make them more secure in the strange world they found themselves after their world had fallen apart. More than either Dean or Sam guessed, John knew how shaken Jeff still was. He also knew that he was doing the right thing with games like ‘Find me.” And “Walk to the car.”

 

“Car. The car.”

 

“What else?” _Remember to keep an eye out – even when something’s safe, it’s a good idea to know where you are._

 

“Rock – no, - boulder. House. The house! Sam. Hi, Sam! Dean- inside.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

The instant John asked the question, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Jeff froze in place and shrank into himself. _Damn! Winchester, you’re a complete moron. Get him moving again_! Before he could say anything more, however, Jeff piped up with a firm:

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“He’s – window.” Jeff pointed toward the window where Dean stood watching. 

 

“You’re right. And I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

 

“Okay-“Jeff’s voice faltered and he wavered a little where he was. Sam shot a glance in John’s direction and shook his head. _He’s all right, Dad._ One foot after the other, Jeff made the rest of the distance that gaped between himself and the car. The steel almost seemed alive under, first, his hand, and then, his ass as he turned and leaned against it, doing his best to look nonchalant. John burst out laughing. And Jeff smiled.

 

Smiled like he’d done the funniest thing in the world. 

 

****

 

 

Paul Mellows saw differences in Jeff right away. The actor didn’t look any heavier and he shrank tight against John’s side the whole time he was being examined. He didn’t talk. But he didn’t hide his face. He nodded his head in answer to questions. And he watched everything that his doctor did. That in itself was a major improvement. His lungs were nearly clear, and he’d put on two pounds according to the scale in Sam and Dean’s bathroom. 

 

“Jeff, have you thought about contacting your family and friends?”

 

The reaction to that quiet question was immediate. Jeff hid his face against John’s neck and shook his head. “It’s all right, Jeff. I just would like to get your records to your primary care physician. It doesn’t need to happen today.”

 

“Doc? John felt Jeff’s fingers wrap around his hand and hold on for dear life.

 

“John, I’ll be back to see Jeff in two days. Jeff? “ Mellows waited patiently for Jeff to look at him. John stroked the side of Jeff’s face and whispered “It’s all right, Jeff. C’mon. The doc isn’t going to hurt you.”

 

“Yes, doctor?” The two words blurred into each other: Jeff’s breathing still wandered all over the place. _Jeff, I’m sorry._

 

“Keep on eating and taking your medicine, all right?” _I didn’t want to upset you. But I needed to know where your head is right now._

 

Jeff nodded. Turned back to John and rested against him, exhausted. “Jeff, once you’ve put on more weight, we’ll see about getting you down to fewer meals. If you want to.” The deep brown eyes regarded him doubtfully and _thank the gods_ Jeff smiled a little at him.

 

“I’ll walk you to your car, doc. Jeff, do you want to stay here?

 

“No.” _With you._

 

John held out his hand to pull Jeff to his feet, entwining their fingers as he did so. Jeff glanced at Paul Mellows and blushed a little around his smile. Then he looked into John’s eyes and forgot that anyone else walked the planet. Mellows had initially dismissed Jeff’s emotions as trauma induced, but the way that John looked back at him burned as brightly as Jeff’s gaze on John. It was a puzzle, but one the doctor decided was best left alone. They walked the few yards between the house and Dr. Mellows’ car, and Jeff stood still while John took four or five steps away from him to watch Mellows ease down the driveway. And to give Jeff a few seconds, no more than forty-five, to be on his own. John had started counting the minute he stepped away.

 

Standing, waiting for John to come back to him, Jeff felt something. Not something he understood. Something cold and dark. And near. Where? Behind- behind him. _John, come back! Come here!_ But his voice wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to look. He wanted to not see. But something was there. Dreading might be lurking, he turned halfway. There. In the woods behind the house. A shadow in a shadow. Animal? No. Then what? _John._ He tried to force the name out and succeeded only in a strangled half word. 

 

It was enough. John glanced over, stared up beyond Jeff and scrambled to get back to him. The hunter knew that he’d never seen anything like the still, dark shadowshape that saw him as well as he saw it, although there were no eyes he could identify. Cold and solid with hate. Struggling to pass the copse of rowans that stood between it and its target. 

 

“Jeff, we have to get you inside. C’mon. The boys and I’ll handle this. Jeff?” 

 

Black. He couldn’t breathe. Black. And anger and hate. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to run. Where? Where was safe? John was safe. Then here. 

 

For a moment, something told him, some little voice? Memory? Something told him to go back to that place, the brown grey place he’d run to a few days earlier. _Bring John. You’ll be safe there_. 

 

But that wasn’t true. John had brought him back when he’d fallen there because it wasn’t true. The brown gray place meant danger. And John didn’t have Sam to anchor him: to bring John and with John, him, back. They’d be lost. And the thing that had begun to move again would follow and take them.

 

Slinking along the edges of the clearing in which the Impala stood, avoiding the car as it had the rowans, the shadow thing reached the edge of the house, moving forward remorselessly. No bigger, but more solid, and all cold hate and deathly anger. 

 

Jeff understood suddenly. _John_ was in danger. Sam and Dean were in danger. And the shadow thing could destroy them, would do that if it managed to touch them. His John, unarmed other than by the knife he carried. His John – he shook his head, biting his lips and trembling. “NO! Shouted as loudly as he could manage. “NO!” Clinging to John’s hand, he stood taller, facing the thing that shadowed between himself and John and the house. The anger and the hate that threatened his John. Jeff had no weapons. Nothing to fight with. Nothing.

 

_Intend! Intend!_

 

He didn’t know where the words arose. Didn’t remember them, not at first. In a twinkling of time, though, the memory came back. _Intend._ He didn’t know how. Wait, he’d been able to reach- what had he done? This thing, though, this thing was dark and full of fury. He didn’t know how to fight this. 

 

_Intend. Intend!_

 

He remembered a little, and then all of what had happened that morning while he’d been a prisoner. Acting on bare recollection, he pulled on every bit of strength he had and, when he sensed that might not be enough, called to the earth under his feet for more. Knew that the words had begun there. Eyes shut, he raised his right arm, palm facing out, curling around his rage at the thing that threatened his John and the boys. Lowered his head and gathered his outrage in tighter. Clenched his fist and cried “NO” as he snapped his fist open and thrust his palm back at the darkanger at the same time his thoughts drove deep into the earth for support and help. No noise, no light, no sound other than his word of defiance. 

 

And the black was defeated. Shriveled and sank back the way it had come. 

 

Jeff had never left himself, had been acutely aware of what he had done as he had done it. Stunned, he turned to John. He felt his knees giving way under him and heard John’s “Jeff, it’s all right. I gotcha.” Effortlessly, the hunter swung him into his arms and strode to the house, talking nonsense to him, making sure Jeff knew that he was alive, that John held him, that he was immensely proud of him.

 

But nothing was all right. He wanted to curl up and hide and forget what he’d seen and what he’d done. Something was all wrong with him. And he hated it. Wanted to forget it. Dizzily, he looked up into John’s eyes and whispered, “Freak.” Miserable and overwhelmed and certain that John would agree with him on all counts.

 

“You? I don’t think so.” John spoke simply, matter of factly. “But you _do_ have a way of making nasty neighbors head for home. “ John collapsed down to the couch and cradled Jeff close to him. “Baby boy, can you tell me what happened?”

 

“Hurt you. It-“he swallowed and tried again. “Before-intend. Intend.”

 

John glanced up at Sam and Dean, Dean in full protective mode, Sam fidgeting behind him. “Sam, Dean I want you to go and check for anything you can find. Whatever it was,- Jeff, it’s all right - it was behind the house, over near that stand of rowans. Which it didn’t like one bit. And it stayed clear of the Impala. Be careful. If it shows up, get back in here. Don’t be heroes. We don’t know what it is.” John realized that Jeff had been shaking his head ‘no’ the whole time he’d been talking to his sons. “Jeff, we’re hunters. We know how to-what-slow down. Sam and Dean need to stay here? No, take a breath. There. Another one. I’ve got you. Another breath?”

 

“Hate. Anger. Hate-“Jeff supplied. “Not yours. Not. Yours.” Furious with himself, unable to explain, he finally let out a growl of frustration. “ _Not a spirit._ Gone. Now. _Gone._ He needed to explain, to talk. Couldn’t make himself say what he wanted. Furious, he beat his fists down on his thighs hard enough to bruise himself. “John! Help me! Help me!” He needed to talk, needed to tell John to warn John and Sam and Dean and he couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop the confusion that swept through and around him. 

 

Then, from the man who held him came calm. In a slow, warm wave that wrapped around him and brought him, panting and barely conscious, back to himself. John’s hands stroked his back and down his arms, his voice lulled Jeff’s frustration and anguish. The touch of his lips to Jeff’s brought the promise of safety. His rumbling breath soothed Jeff’s rabbiting heart, and allowed him to relax. John pulled Jeff’s shirt up and softed along his skin, just gentling him. Eyes heavy with weariness, Jeff shuddered a little and then calmed more deeply. Shuddered again like a child recovering from a thunderstorm of tears. And calmed. Breathed more slowly, more deeply. He felt Sam’s wide, long fingered hand on his back and Dean’s strong, solid palm against the side of his head, helping. “It’s all right, Jeff. It’s going to be all right,” John whispered. “Sam and Dean are going to stay here. I promise. I’m here. Just get your breath. No, breathe. That’s all you need to do. Breathe. “

 

Jeff shook his head: “Talk.”

 

“All right. Alone?”

 

“You and me.” Every word felt like a block of lead in his mouth. But he had to tell John. To explain.

 

“Okay. How about going in and stretching out on the bed? Just to talk, smartass,” although John said the words in only the gentlest way. Jeff smiled and nodded.

 

“Sam, Dean, I think we need to reconnoiter.”

 

“Yessir. Dad, be careful when you’re out there,” Dean replied, his tone serious, his eyes glinting. John’s left eyebrow made a beeline for his hairline and Sam glowered balefully at his lover. “Oh! You want Sam and me to go! Sorry. I thought you were takin’ Jeff out to-lunch. That’s it. We’ll reconnoiter that sandwich place.”

 

“I don’t much care were you reconnoiter as long as you come back with lunch for us. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

 

“Dad, Jeff’s going to sleep.”

 

“No. I’m” Jeff licked his lips and coughed. “I’m not.” Sam held out the glass of water he’d fetched from the kitchen area and helped Jeff sip from it. “Thank you. Sam.” He nestled against John once more and, for half a heartbeat, hesitated as his cheek hit an unevenness in John’s shirt. No, he sensed, _under_ r John’s shirt. “S-am?” Bewildered, then, not at all bewildered in one soft gasp.

 

‘Uh huh?”

 

“Borrow - cell phone?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Later. After. Jared. Jensen.”

 

“Ackles and Pada…I’m gonna mess this up,” Dean muttered. 

“lecki,” Jeff finished. “After.”

 

“You’ve got it.”

 

“Impala?”

 

Dean nodded, as aware of the direction of the conversation as Sam was. “Ready to roll.”

 

“Think I know.” Jeff murmured against John’s chest. “The othertwo who are.”

 

“Baby-boy, how do you know about an other two?”

 

“Not asleep.”

 

“When Sam and Dean and I were talking? Why didn’t you say something?”

 

“Afraid.”

 

“Of me?” John tilted Jeff’s chin up and looked at him closely. “Were you afraid of me?”

 

“Didn’t believe-I didn’t believe you were here. - Hallucinating. I’d wanted-waited-hoped-John. My John. So long. Hoped. Couldn’t believe. I was afraid.”

 

“Waited so long? Baby-boy, you only met me –“

 

“When I- You were in that room. I saw. John. ‘this week?’ your name.”Jeff clung to John and shivered. “Tell you. I need to tell you.”

 

“Jeff, don’t try so hard. You’ll be able to talk if you slow down. I’m here. You’re in my arms. You’re safe. ”

 

“Dad, Sam and I are going to leave. Maybe Jeff’ll do better without us here for a while.”

 

“Dean? Angry?”

 

“No, Jeff. Hell, man, I don’t know how I could be mad at you – well, unless you dented a quarter panel on the car. From the sound of things, you saved all four of us just a while ago.” Dean spoke quietly, letting Jeff absorb the words and their meanings. “Dad, d’you need us to help you get Jeff to the bedroom?”

 

“I’ve got it, Dean. You two go and – oh hell, hold hands or something! Stay together.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

 

John helped Jeff out of his jeans and shirt, remembering to keep Jeff’s (formerly his own) jacket as a top blanket. The coat was the only thing other than John himself that could calm Jeff. The other man’s gaze never left off watching him. Moving quietly, John walked to the window and lowered the shade, leaving the room in shadow. “Jeff, d’you have to use the bathroom?” After a moment, Jeff shook his head and, shyly, reached for John to tug him closer. “I’ll just stay right here. Is that okay?”

 

Jeff nodded and yawned a little. Once John had settled his blankets around him with the jacket over the top, he took Jeff’s hand in his and cocked his head to one side. “Can you talk about it?”

 

“When-I was-” Jeff’s voice came, reedy and very faint. “When I -younger-in high school, maybe 10th grade? I would dream at night.”

 

“Uh huh? You’re talking in sentences.” Jeff nodded jerkily and took a deep breath. Gentle, John stroked his back, avoiding his injuries, steadying him. 

 

“I watched - TV. I made up stories about me - a hero and stuff. Until one night.” His voice became tentative and he frowned as he attempted to wrap words around his memories. “One night. I watch stupid Freddy Krueger kills everyone. When I –slept - dreamed more of the same. But different. Different. I remember-“

 

John waited patiently until Jeff turned his head and opened his eyes. “Bloody. All red. Someone died. I don’t know how. He was already dead. Another person – he glanced up - ceiling by a rope on his wrists. Bleeding. I couldn’t hear anything. And I thought should save him. But – how? I-how?

 

“ There was something bad – you know how you can’t see real well in dreams sometimes? It was bad. That other guy would die.” John nodded encouragingly, although he couldn’t help but think of all the times that Jeff’s dream place had been all too real for him and for the boys.

 

“I wanted to wake up- stop dreamin’? Someone walks right by me. I couldn’t see his face. He didn’t see me.” John watched as Jeff looked out and slightly up, telling John how tall the dream had made the guy seem by where Jeff focused his eyes. The faint voice continued, stumbling and steadying only to fade again. “ He cut down other .Got him out of the room. Half dragged out. Don’t know where -just a room. Dirty and broken furniture and dusty.

 

‘Then I woke up. I couldn’t forget the dream. I still remember smell of – _in_ \- dream. Blood everywhere. Blood. “

 

Jeff‘s hand rested, fisted and suddenly feeling very tiny and fragile, inside John’s grasp. 

 

“I - different dream, and the man was there again. It looked like the same place, but not the same inside. Night and stars and a field. There was more fire. A barn? Near the field. The man rescued a kid. Maybe a girl. I don’t know. He had dark hair like mine and- Maybe I was going to be a fireman and rescue people when I got older? 

 

“There was a dream - no blood. I couldn’t see him. We were sitting in front of a fire. Outside, I think. Just sitting. Not talking. I think we were smoking maybe. Then he got up and left, just walked away. He might have started to look at me, but I woke up.” Jeff shut his eyes and lay quiet for long enough that John thought he’d gone to sleep.

 

‘No- I didn’t dream about the man for- six months? Then, sudden-ly, the man came back. Same place. That field and the wind was blowing. Or it was night and the stars lit the whole sky. And one day during a dream at night – it was night really, but day during the dream is what I meant – I reached out and touched his shoulder. He turned - looked at me.

 

“I thought I was looking at myself, how I’d be when I was old –thirty or something.” Jeff laughed a little at that. He fell silent, tired and suddenly uncertain. He’d never told anyone what he was saying to John. No one. Ever. 

 

John shifted a little and wormed his left arm under Jeff, wanting Jeff tighter in his arms and safe. More than he could have said, It was important that Jeff be safe. Secure in John’s embrace, Jeff continued his story, eyes closed so he could see deeper into the memories.

 

“We’d never talked. In the dreams, you know? People had screamed. People had died and the man saved people. But I watched and he didn’t speak to me. Until one night I asked him his name. Do you know what he said? “This week?” That’s what he said. Smiled.”

 

John sucked in a breath and clutched Jeff a bit tighter.

 

‘I didn’t understand what that meant. He didn’t tell me to go away. That was something. I- were dreams me telling me that I really didn’t know what I wanted to do in my life. Asked him. He smiled, Shrugged. Then nothing.” 

 

He remembered the long absence of “this week?” in his dreams, all the way into his senior year in high school. But he never forgot the man who rescued people from the fires and death. And, when “this week?” reentered his dreamworld during his senior year, they met in the same dream in the same place.

 

Recalling, Jeff happened on something that he’d almost forgot over time. There had been something different about “this week?” when he’d returned. Something he hadn’t seen, not really. Concern? But not about himself or Jeff. Something else. 

 

“One night he rescued me. In my dream. I was tied up and I couldn’t move and there was- _something_ \- across the room.“ Jeff’s voice tightened and almost disappeared. Even after all the years between him and that night even though he was safe in John’s embrace, he still remembered the terror. Shakily, he continued. “Something that had a knife. I could see the knife. Notches in it. I thought they were teeth, but they weren’t - . They-something had eaten into the knife. Acid? I knew I was going to die. And that if I died in the dream, I wouldn’t wake up. And I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t wake up. I tried! But I –“

 

John had gone very still. Remembering something, something far back. A spirit, an angry murderous spirit. And a knife. And someone caught in its web. But he’d been asleep, in a nightmare populated by a dreamwalker, a nightwalker that had left him nearly dead. If Sam and Dean - Jeff’s voice dragged him back to the present. The actor’s hands twisted together as he tried to continue the story.

 

“He just was _there._ I don’t know where he came from, but he was there. And the thing – the thing took its knife and tried to kill me. And he stepped in front of it and it slashed him instead. It hurt so much! He didn’t scream. I did. I screamed and I screamed because the thing had hurt him, hurt _us_ so much! “ Jeff made a feeble line from his upper left chest toward his lower right rib cage. “There. I screamed and he grabbed that knife away -cut me down with it. Then there was a- a gun and he shot the thing and it dissolved! He was hurt so bad! And he shook me and told me to ‘Wake up!’

 

“I didn’t want to! I wanted to help him! He was hurt and I hurt and I screamed and screamed but _he woke me up_. My mom and dad thought I’d had a nightmare. But he woke me up and he stayed in the dream where I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t help him. And I know that if he hadn’t wakened me up, I wouldn’t have lived. It hurt so much. There wasn’t-no mark on me. Him- bleeding and not letting me stay.” 

 

Jeff shuddered and continued, tears tracking down his cheeks as he remembered that night. Eyes seeing only his memories, he asked himself or a ghost, maybe “Why wouldn’t he let me stay?”

 

“I didn’t know his name - what had happened. And I thought I- _I didn’t know his name._ I couldn’t say thank you. You can’t thank a dream. All l could think was where was he and had he died to save me? And if he had, he did it without question, but why? And I needed him to come back and talk to me, show me he’d lived. Tell me his name. Let me thank him.” His voice wavered and he barely said the next few words. “Tell me why I couldn’t stay. Why I had to go, to leave him,” he swallowed around the word “him” so that it came out garbled.

 

“I tried so hard to find him. Nowhere – wind howling – empty. I tried so _hard_ ”

 

Jeff’s voice faded and he slipped near to sleep. “So hard.” John kissed his forehead and his cheeks, murmuring his name and telling him he was safe. Over and over, too shocked himself to say more.

 

“And then I saw him again. Four or five times. Once a long way away and he might not even have seen me. Once closer and he was saving someone else from a big dog? Black, with long fur. Hellhound, I think, now. And then when I first started acting. That was the night he told me his name. Just his first name. Said his name. John. I didn’t have a chance to tell him mine. Something called – a voice called his name…your name.”

 

John felt a tug at the hem of his T-shirt and, dazed, looked down at Jeff.

 

“Take off your t-shirt.” When John didn’t move, Jeff pulled on the shirt with every ounce of strength he had left. Understanding what Jeff wanted, John used his free hand to tug that shirt off over his head and watched Jeff’s face go pinched and white. 

 

 

The scar slid from just above John’s left pec down across the nipple and farther down toward its terminus below his right rib cage. “Oh gods,” Jeff whispered.

 

“Jeff – you – I thought it was a dream. A nightmare- Jeff. That kind of nightmare happens when someone’s a hunter. Jeff-I always knew your name. Even though you never told me. But memories-get No, that’s not it. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I didn’t dare. ”

 

John needed space and time. He didn’t need space and time. He had the answers to questions he never knew he’d asked. Held against him the person whose presence had haunted his dreams, always out of reach.

 

“You told me your name. You said you were John. And you said-“Jeff’s voice faded for a heartbeat. Very softly, he continued, “that it was dangerous for me, where I was. And that I had to stay _here,_ that I shouldn’t be where you were be-cause” he struggled for breath, “because I needed to stay away because I- you might not be able to- you might not be there to protect me. There.”

 

“Yes.” John whispered.

 

“And you left me _here_. “ No bitterness tinged Jeff’s tone: he still felt more wonderment that John had ever been in his dreams.

 

‘When-“he cleared his throat and touched John’s cheek with his fingertips. “-never forgot you – ever. When I afraid and alone I would think about how brave you were. I’d say your name and hope you heard me. Sometimes I think you did. I’d feel – better. After. But I didn’t dream that place again. The gate had closed. 

 

“I went on, my life went on. I finally went into-acting. Went – and then the television series happened and I couldn’t stop wanting you to come to me. John – my John – I’d loved you for so long and I had been too stupid to figure it out. When they wrote me out of the script-when-I didn’t want to live. Jared and Jensen didn’t know that. They did know I had a crush on a character. Worried them. They didn’t know about me not wanting to live. No one knows that. But I knew you were real, that you were out there in that place. All I wanted was to find you again.”

 

While he’d been talking, Jeff had been touching the scar that John had collected on the night he’d saved Jeff’s life. His fingers trailed lightly over the puckered skin. He looked up into John’s eyes and then down at the savage mark.

 

Shy, uncertain at first, Jeff kissed the top of the scar and followed its dark trail down over John’s nipple and toward his belly, tongue stroking it, then lips kissing the old puckered skin lightly as far as he could reach. “Jeff – no,” John protested quietly. But the tears amid the caresses couldn’t be denied. Jeff kissed back up to the hollow of John’s throat and, finally, his lips. “Today? Today I couldn’t let – whatever that was-I couldn’t let it hurt you. I couldn’t.” John’s eyes opened a bit wider when Jeff hitched himself further up the bed so he could kiss John far more determinedly. “I love you, John Winchester.”

 

 

Then his courage faded. “Are you staying?”

 

“I’m staying here. Beside you. If you’ll have me.”

 

Jeff’s smile lit an equal one from John. 

 

“One thing.” John cautioned.

 

“One thing?” Jeff’s eyes went anxious and dark.

 

“No wild sex tonight.” Seriously, John examined Jeff’s face. “I don’t know if I could do anything. Wild sex another night. That all right?” And he smiled.

 

“All right. Since you’re so much older than I am and all.” Jeff replied seriously. Just before he slid back down on his side, laughing until the chuckles faded and he went to sleep. “I love you, too, Jeffrey Dean Morgan,” John whispered. Mind full of what Jeff had told him, full of memories, he leaned back against the head board to think.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

 

Jensen Ackles jolted up in bed, snatched from sleep by the thunder of someone’s fist hammering on his door. “Yeah? Wha?” 

 

“Jensen, wake the hell up!”

 

“Jared? What’s wrong?” Bleary, but not too bleary to remember to pull on sweat pants, Jensen stumbled toward his bedroom door, hauled in a sigh and shook his head, trying to clear it.

 

The instant he opened his door, Jared pushed into his room, and onto his right foot. “Hey! Jared, get off my foot, man!”

 

“Sorry, Jensen. I’m sorry-but-Jensen. I talked to Jeff. I talked to Jeff! He’s alive!”

 

Jensen woke the rest of the way up in one breath. “Jared,” he started, trying to sound reasonable, trying to squash his own rush of hope at Jared’s words, “are you sure?”

 

 

Jensen and the rest of the cast and crew of Supernatural knew that there was a great deal more to Jared than the image the press plastered up everywhere. And Jensen, of all of them, knew how terrified Jared had been for the previous five weeks since someone had kidnapped Jeff Morgan.

 

Jared and the older man had hit it off right from the beginning and, even after Jeff’s character, John, had been written out of the series, had maintained their friendship. Jeff’s kidnapping had left Jared devastated. He was no hunter like Sam Winchester, but he had nagged the police ceaselessly, had used every resource his considerable intelligence could bring to bear on the nightmare and had, anonymously, posted a reward leading to any information about Jeff. 

 

Jensen worried as much as Jared, but for Jared more than Jeff. He’d seen how much two leads which had turned out to be fakes had hurt Jared’s trust in others, and he didn’t want Jared treated that badly again.

 

“I talked to him, Jensen. I. Talked. To. Him.” People described Jared’s hazel eyes as cat-like: at that moment, looking at them glowing with excitement, Jensen agreed completely. 

 

“You talked to that one guy in Iowa, too, Jay,” he started gently. “What? Hold the phone still. I can’t see what you’re trying to show me-dude! I do not have my glasses on or in!”

 

“It’s the phone number. The phone number he used to call me. Call him, Jensen. I know you don’t believe me, but call him.”

 

A return number? Jensen cocked his head to one side and, after a few seconds in which he alternately looked at the cell and at Jared’s face, he held out his hand for the phone. Face alight and eyes glinting Jared waited while Jensen found his glasses on the night stand, squinted suspiciously at the phone again and hit Send on the number queued at the top of Jared’s incoming calls list.

 

One ring. Two rings. A click and “This is John.”

 

Jensen’s legs went right out from under him. Before he crunched into the nightstand, Jared caught him and sat him down on the edge of the California king. Shaking violently, Jensen gaped up at Jared, who smiled and nodded, encouraging Jensen to go back to the call.

 

“Hello?” the other voice asked.

 

“Dad?” Jensen had dropped like a shot into his role. “Dad?” Jared’s eyebrows arched and he frowned faintly, realizing that Jensen had been far more worried than he had let on. And that Jensen had been being Dean in order to keep himself together. Son of a bitch!

 

There was a soft laugh at the other end of the line. “Is this Jensen?”

 

“Yessir. I mean-Yes-I mean-”Jensen hauled in a breath and tried to think.

 

“Jeff? There’s someone on the line for you.” 

 

“Jensen?” Jeff’s voice was similar to that of the first speaker, but definitely not the same. 

 

Jensen swallowed spasmodically and tried for a smooth “Hi, Jeff” that came out something like “erheff?” 

 

“Hi, Jensen. How are you?”

 

“Where are you? Who was that I was just talking to? Where have you been? What’s happening? Do the police know? Jared and I are coming to you!”

 

“Slow down, Jensen-c’mon.” Jeff’s voice sounded “off” in Jensen’s ears, thin and shaky. _Well, duh, Ackles._ “Who _is_ that guy?”

 

“John. John Winchester. Jensen, I took the chance that you still have the same private addy as you had – before -. Sam just sent you a picture.” When Jensen didn’t answer, Jeff added, “by e-mail” and, then, “on your computer?” each phrase a little quieter and more uncertain.

 

“Computer-picture-yeah, sure-Jared, where the hell is my netbook?”

 

“Uh-where you left it?” Jared replied helpfully.

 

“Where did I leave it? On the kitchen table-yeah-hold on, Jeff – I’m going to the kitchen. Damn! Where did that sneaker come from? Jared, stop blocking the hallway, willya?”

 

“Me? Blocking the hallway? I wouldn’t do anything like that!” Jared stood away and let Jensen by then followed him down the hall and up the stairs to the kitchen. Two minutes later, the computer screen showed a picture of-

 

“Jeff. And-oh god, that’s John Winchester.” Jared just gaped at the image. He’d never met John, but the man who held Jeff could have been Jeff’s older brother. Or twin. Or – “ 

 

Jensen nodded and lifted the phone back to his ear. “Jeff? You still there?”

 

“Yup. _You_ still there?”

 

“Jeff, Jared and I are coming to you. Where are you? Jared, stop yanking on my arm! Oh.” Jared waved a piece of paper in front of Jensen’s face, much too close for him to be able to focus. Jensen nodded quickly and signed for Jared to calm down.

 

“I think Jared made reservations already. Jensen, we’re in Breckenridge in Colorado. John wants to talk to you.”

 

“Okay. And, Jeff? Try to eat something, okay?”

 

“I am. Every two hours. John won’t stop feeding me.” Jeff laughed. 

 

The sound of muted voices was followed by John’s soft, clear words. “Jensen, are you still there?”

 

“Yessir. I mean-”

 

“It’s okay. But you could maybe practice saying “John”?

 

“I’ll do that, sir…er…d...John.”

 

The chuckle was so much Jeff’s interpretation of John that Jensen felt tears in his eyes. “The boys’ll meet you at Denver International. They’ll be at the Far End of the West Economy Parking Lot. You’ll need to take the shuttle. ”

 

“Yessir-will they-”

 

“Be driving the Impala? What the heck _is_ it about that car? Jeff practically worships it! The truck’s – by the way, what kind of name _is_ Truckzilla, anyway? - big, but if the four of you try to fit into the cab, you and Dean’ll end up riding in the bed.”

 

Jensen tried to laugh, but he was way, way too shaken up. Jared retrieved the phone from him and confirmed the reservations that he had made after Jeff and John’s first call, the one that had left him both excited and thoughtful. “We’ll see you in a few hours. Sam? Yeah? Sure, no problem.”

 

In the silence after Jared had cut the connection, Jensen stared at the picture of two men, one Jeff, the other, John Winchester. His thinner frame swathed in one of what was clearly one of John’s plaid flannel shirts, Jeff nestled against John’s chest. The hunter’s arms enfolded him in protection and safety. Jensen could almost hear John Winchester’s reassurances. 

 

The second picture had been taken without their knowledge, Jared was willing to bet. He smiled at the trust and happiness on Jeff’s face as he talked to John. The only description Jared could come up with for the look on John’s face was “idiot in love”, although he kept that to himself.

 

“Jay, are you-” Jensen started to say, picking his words carefully. Everything had moved too quickly for him, and he needed time to think, to be certain that they both weren’t rushing into an elaborate hoax set up by some off-the-wall psycho. Or, and the thought startled Jensen, into danger. The irritated look on Jared’s face throttled the rest of Jensen’s sentence. 

 

Eyes flashing, Jared snapped, “Don’t tell me. Not one damn word. That was Jeff. That was John Winchester. We are going to Breckenridge. And you are not going to take three hours to analyze every noun and verb in the phone call we just had. Get into a shower and pull on some clothes. Pack. I’ll make coffee. Jensen, that’s Jeff and he’s with John Winchester. We’re going.”

 

“Did I say we weren’t?” 

 

“Did I say you _said_ anything? Think about every angle of this while we’re on the plane. But we are going! ” 

 

Jensen just gaped at Jared, who turned on his heel and strode across the kitchen to the coffee maker. For the first time, Jensen noticed that his housemate had already showered, shaved and dressed. “Jay, I’m sorry.”

 

 

“’Bout what? You can’t help the way you are, Jensen. Go on, get ready. I’ll make the coffee extra strong.” Jared fumbled with the coffee and its little measuring cup, openly angry.

 

Bewildered, Jensen managed a quiet, “Thanks, man.” and saw Jared’s shoulders slump as his co-star retrieved his patience from its quick trip to the stratosphere. Jensen saw the apology before he heard it.

 

“And, Jensen? I’m the one who’s sorry – I bit your head clean to the shoulders for no reason. I’m just-dude, I haven’t seen Jeff in five weeks. He disappeared! The RCMP and the F-freakin’-BI couldn’t find him! Now I find out he’s safe. That he was rescued by a man who we thought was a fictional character, the man Jeff’s been in love with for forever. I just want to go and see him. Tell him I’m sorry for mocking him about having a crush on someone who doesn’t exist.” 

 

Jensen nodded and smiled a little. “I know, dude. He’s gonna rub our faces in it. You know that, right?”

 

“I don’t know ‘bout that,” Jay chuckled. “Look at this picture! If he had any bigger stars in his eyes, they’d go super nova!’ For a few seconds, he lost himself in staring at John and Jeff, then shook his head to bring himself back to the present and the fact that they needed to go.

 

“Coffee?”

 

‘Coffee.” Jensen echoed, ‘They do look happy, don’t they?”

 

“Ijits”.

 

****

 

_(Earlier)_

 

“Jared?”

 

“Uh, Sam?” Jared frowned and tried to think of something semi-intelligent to say. Sam Winchester’s voice was deeper than his. Not the best first line. And he sounded damned worried.

 

“Yup. I’m kinda hoping I can talk to you alone for a couple of minutes.”

 

Confused, Jared had stared at his phone before he put it back to his ear. “Yeah. I’m alone. Jensen doesn’t wake up this early.”

 

“Man-“ Jared heard the hesitation at the other end of the line and kicked his brain into gear.

 

“What’s up, Sam?”

“This is gonna sound stupid or nuts, either way.”

 

“I’m good with stupid and nuts. What’s on your mind, Sam?”

 

“I-well – er- I did some research. About you.”

 

“Heading right into creepy here?”

 

“Dude, I mean-crap.”

 

“Eloquent, Sam. Dude, just spit whatever it is out.“

 

“Have you seen anything-unusual – the past couple of days?” Sam winced, realizing just how lame he sounded.

 

“Other than the phone number that Jeff used just now? Not that I – wait. Like what kind of –unusual ?” Jared didn’t mean the question to sound suspicious, but it did. “Your kind of unusual? As in the supernatural kind of unusual? That is your kind of unusual, right?”

 

“Okay. Look, I don’t blame you for being cautious. I could be anybody and some of those fangirls Jeff told us about could be behind all this. But, yeah, our kind of unusual.”

 

“Jeff being there and alive and not scared of you tells me that you’re you. Sam, what is it?” He’d flopped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to visualize Sam Winchester at the other end of the Ethernet, talking to him.

 

“You sound like you might have seen something – unusual. What did you see?”

 

“It was just a flash, and I didn’t get a second look. A guy walking down the street. He had a-“

 

“Earnhardt jacket on, maybe?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You sound disappointed, Sam. You hot for some guy in an Earnhardt jacket?”

 

“Not likely.” Sam snorted. He heard the hitch in Jared’s laugh, though. And decided to push a little. “What did you see, Jared?”

 

“I could have sworn, though-“Jared hesitated and thought through what he believed he’d seen. “He just seemed to be looking around, you know? Nothing serious or anything. Then he stopped and looked at me. Stared at me for maybe ten seconds? And I could have sworn-“ He felt a blush rising in his cheeks. “I could have sworn I saw –“

 

“Dog ears.”

 

Jared gaped at the cell. “Yeah. – I think.”

 

“You weren’t imagining anything. Jared, he’s real. He may be on his own business, I don’t know. But he’s real enough. Man, I know it’s early. But it’s probably a good idea for you and Jensen to get on the first airplane you can to get to Denver. “

 

“I’ll call you back as soon as I have the reservations.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

“Are you kidding? Yeah, just like that. Dude, put me on speed dial. I’m putting you on mine. Talk to you after I get Jensen awake and packed. By the way, you owe me big time. He hates morning. You know, when the sun is rising. Which it hasn’t yet. He’s going to rip my ass out my ear.”

 

“I’ll find you something to pay you for the loss of your ass.” Sam had laughed.

 

****

 

As soon as Jensen closed his bedroom door, Jared flipped his cell open and punched Sam’s number. “Well, that went okay.” He started without preamble.

 

“You were right about Jensen’s reaction?”

 

“Yeah. The guy thinks everything through, then tosses out what he’s thought and thinks it through again. Comes up with the same answer and settles on it after the third time. I honest to god don’t know why I-” Jared heard the sound of Jensen’s shower starting and risked talking above a low rumble.

 

“What you asked me about earlier, if I’d seen anything weird or anyone weird, I mean, over the last couple of days? I’ve been thinkin’ about it. And, outside that guy, there was one thing.”

 

‘A thing? Or a person?”

 

“That’s what I don’t exactly know.” Jared frowned. “ I don’t think even Jensen knows that I’ve got our sixes. Hell, until Jeff disappeared, I thought I was just over protecting Jensen and me. Now? “ Jared cocked his head, listening for Jensen. “Sam, I saw something more than dog ear guy. And they were themselves and then not themselves slowly enough that I caught it, whatever they were. But I saw something. You’ll probably think I’m insane.”

 

 

“Hunter here. It would take a lot for me to think you were even a little disturbed, much less insane. What did you see?”

 

“Two girls. I think. Teenagers, or even younger. They both have black hair, spiked like bed head on uppers, you know? They look like sisters, but that could just be the way they were dressed. I don’t think they missed a single possible color in their T shirts. One of ‘em wore black shorts and the other wore a black skirt-”

 

 

“With sparklies” Sam added quietly.

 

Jared realized that he had been spending a lot of time gaping into his cell phone as, once again, he stared through it, trying to imagine Sam’s face.

 

“Yeah. How…”

 

“I’ll tell you later. Why, other than the clothes, did you notice them?”

 

 

“Hunter there, right?”

 

“Yeah, Jared”

 

 

Jared nodded to himself and took a deep breath. “I could have sworn they turned into crows. One minute they were just hanging out across the street from us and the next minute, they had gone and two crows flew away from where they’d been.” He closed his eyes, waiting for Sam’s reaction and knowing he sounded like something from a fantasy novel. 

 

“Jared, you may not believe this, but they’re friends. And powerful ones at that. Did you see anything else?

 

 

“A guy with dog –“

 

“Coyote, actually.”

 

“if you say so. A guy with coyote ears and two girls turning into crows isn’t enough?” Jared hoped that his disbelief had made it through to Sam.

 

“Yeah-well, the Crow Girls are kind of startling. Was there anything else? Anyone else? Think hard. It doesn’t have to have been something big or flashy-“

 

Jared squeezed his eyes shut and reviewed what he’d seen. “That shadow. The one on the tree and the sidewalk.”

 

“Shadow?” Sam’s voice went very still. “Shadow?”

 

 

“Yeah. There shouldn’t have been one. Only something in the middle of the intersection would have been in the right position. And there wasn’t anything there. Well, other than a taxi and two pedestrians or three. And they weren’t big enough.”

 

“Jared, I need you to get Jensen and get out of the house. Go straight to the airport and get on your plane. The Crow Girls have an eye on you, but they can get distracted. Don’t talk to anyone. And do not let Jensen wander away. You should be all right if you stay together. If you see the man with the coyote ears and he follows you, let him. He’s a friend. The shadow you described isn’t. There are other shadows that might be.”

 

“Got it, Sam. Do I want to know what I’m up against?” Jared spoke quietly, all business. 

 

“I’m not sure yet myself. Get to Denver. Dean and I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

“Sam? Thanks.”

 

“No problem. We super heroes have to hang together. “

 

“I am _so_ not a super hero. Remember that, okay?”

 

“Got it. Not a super hero.”

 

Thanks. See you.”

 

“Yeah, man.”

 

“Jay, who was that?” Jensen still looked both sleepy and damp after his shower and shave. Jared thought distractedly that he was also unbelievably handsome, but that was beside the point.

 

“Huh? Oh, Sam Winchester. We were talking about-”

 

“-computers? At this hour of the-“Jensen’s stare wandered toward the nearest clock. “You owe me for this, Padalecki.”

 

“Cut it out, Jensen. Here’s the coffee. We have to get moving. Cliff should be here in a couple of minutes.”

 

“You called Cliff? It’s the middle of the night, Jay!”

 

“It’s early morning. And yes I called Cliff. He’ll take care of the kids and the house while we’re gone.” Thoughts of Sadie and Harley led to thoughts about Bisou, and Jared frowned. 

 

“You didn’t tell Jeff about Bisou the first time you talked to him, did you?” Jensen asked, and only Jared would have understood that his co-star had been pondering that during his shower. Bisou had not survived the attack on her master. 

 

Jared shook his head, silent. After a moment, he cleared his throat and grabbed his duffle. “C’mon. We need to get goin’. I’ve checked everything, but Cliff can do it again. The kids’ll need to go out by the time he’s back from droppin’ us off.” He glanced out the back window and saw the headlights of Cliff’s van in the driveway. The slam of the vehicle’s door and a shadow crossing its headlights meant they had a safe way to the airport. 

 

Safe. He needed to think about “safe”. He needed to think about Jensen being safe. Jared didn’t like the necessity. At all.

 

“Jay, why didn’t we just take one of the cars?”

 

“We don’t know how long we’ll be staying. It made more sense to have Cliff drive us. G’morning’ Cliff. Sorry ‘bout the hour, man.”

 

“It makes one hell of a lot more sense than the two of you taking a cab, anyway,” Cliff rumbled He didn’t mention the fact that Jared’s phone call had interrupted a pretty good night’s rest. “I remember the last time you got into a cab. Took us four hours to find you once those kids stopped driving around with you two in the back seat.”

 

Without further ado, clutching their travel mugs full of coffee, Jared and Jensen crawled into the second seat, tossed their duffels over the back of the seat and seat belted themselves in. Thirty seconds later, Cliff had backed out of the driveway and turned the van’s nose toward the airport.

 

Jensen stared out the window of the van, watching morning come to Vancouver: and wondering how they were going to tell Jeff about his beloved pet. Beside him, Jared sank into silence, apparently half asleep, actually watching everyone and everything that passed by. He hadn’t forgot the shadow that had had no entity to own it. Or the two girls who he thought had become crows. Or, for that matter, the dog – or coyote- eared man.

 

****

 

Cliff dropped them at the Level 3 Departures entrance at the airport. Even with morning traffic, they’d arrived well within the timeframe they needed to clear inspection and get to their gate. However, Jared, already on the watch as a result of his and Sam’s discussion, wanted nothing so much as to get on the plane early. Jensen, oblivious to what was really pushing Jared, objected. Loudly. He wanted time to sit and just wake the hell up and he didn’t relish the idea of doing that in the stale air inside a passenger plane.

 

“Jared, I know you want to see Jeff.” And out of the blue, an errant thought struck the older man. “Do you and Jeff have a thing going?” Had he missed that? He thought he knew Jared pretty well, but had Jared been pining for a lover? Jensen’s brow wrinkled in thought. And he flushed when he realized that he was jealous.

 

“Are you crazy?” Jared snapped.

 

“You guys spend a lot of time talking and – and stuff. I just thought maybe – “

 

“Can we talk about this on the plane? Jensen, I don’t want to hang out in the waiting area.”

 

“Oh my god, you two are a couple?! But what-“

 

Jared didn’t roll his eyes. Jared didn’t protest. Jared didn’t blush. Jared glared and snarled, “We do not have a _thing._ The entire time I’ve known Jeff, he’s only had a thing for one person. You worried about Jeff being delusional. I worried about Jeff’s life. I stuck to him like fuckin’ glue because I knew he was ready to give up and go under. _He_ doesn’t even know that. He thinks he fooled everyone. But when the John Winchester character died, no matter how much he joked about it, a part of Jeff died, too. So, yeah, I have a “thing” for Jeff. It was called keeping him alive.”

 

Jared had turned to scan the airport, watching for anything out of the ordinary. When he looked back at Jensen who hadn’t moved except to let his mouth fall open in shock at his outburst, Jared sighed. “Jensen-“

 

“Don’t. Just don’t fuckin’ talk to me. You didn’t see fit to talk to me about Jeff, about how worried you were about him? It didn’t dawn on you that I might be worried, too? Or that, just maybe, I could have helped?”

 

“Oh, it dawned on me, all right. And, you know what, Jensen? If I’d have thought for even half a second that you’d actually accept the fact that Jeff’s heart was broken, I’d have told you. But I just freakin’ couldn’t take that risk. Man, I get that you have to weigh everything and that you’re private and thoughtful. But Jeff didn’t need an analyst. He’d had one and it didn’t do a damn bit of good.

 

“He needed someone to just let him talk. Try to come to terms with losing his last hope. You know?” All the fire had banked itself deep inside Jared. “You just can’t- you couldn’t do that.”

 

Jensen didn’t argue. He picked up his duffle, however, and started back toward the front of the airport. 

“You’re right. I couldn’t. Look, you don’t need me around for this. I’ll _overthink_ or something.”

 

“Jensen.” Jared spoke Jensen’s name in a way that the older actor hadn’t heard from him before. In a morning full of oddness, the gentle “Jeff may not need you. But I do.” Literally stopped Jensen in his tracks, precisely because hearing Jared say those words, in that frank, open tone, wasn’t odd. Not at all.

 

Jensen turned his head. Simultaneously, a shadow slid up the wall across the movable walkways behind him. Jared saw the shadow and spoke again. “I need you.” He knew he’d taken a tremendous risk, and that there was every chance that Jensen would wheel and continue toward the nearest main door. But the time had come, at least in Jared’s mind.

 

Cheeks flushed, biting his lower lip, Jensen replied, his drawl easy on the ear, although the hurt in his expression wasn’t easy on the eye.

 

“Jared? You’re actin’ so different today. Are you sure you’re all right?” Confused, because he thought he had seen Jared in every mood the man possessed, Jensen took a step closer. Glanced up behind Jared and went stock still. “Jared? Don’t move. Oh god! What the hell’s goin’ on?” 

 

Jared froze where he was. As calmly as he knew how, he asked, “Jensen, what are you seeing?”

 

“It’s a spider! A shadow of a spider! It’s giant! Jared, what’s happening?” Jensen could have backed away and run, but it never even crossed his mind. Instead, he darted forward, grabbed Jared by the forearm and wheeled to pull them both out of the way of – of whatever it was. 

 

Jared shook his head and tugged Jensen into his embrace, just holding him tight. “I don’t know. But there’s a shadow behind you, too. Not a spider. A Just Plain Ugly.”

 

“Why’s everyone just sitting there?” Jensen shouted. His frantic gaze hopped from person to person waiting for the seating call out or making a last phone call before boarding, apparently unaware of two giant shapes that shouldn’t have been there. And of two frightened human beings holding on to each other smack in the middle of the concourse. “Can’t they see what we’re seeing? Oh my god, I’m losing my mind! Jared, tell me you’re seeing what I see!”

 

Wildly, Jensen clung to Jared and gaped around the taller man at the massive spider shadow where it loomed against the wall of the waiting area. “Jared – Jay, we’re going to die, aren’t we? Are we already dead?”

 

“I don’t –“Jared followed the stare that Jensen had directed over his shoulder and gulped. “Jensen, we need to get on the plane. Now. The shadows aren’t moving. We need to walk to the guy behind the counter, explain who we are, and get the hell on the plane.”

 

“How? They-”

 

“Just walk with me. No, don’t let go. Don’t look at the shadows. Just look at me.” Jared murmured. “Jensen, look at me.” He spoke so softly that Jensen had to step closer to hear him.

 

“Jay-“

 

“Just at me. Deep breath. I’m getting my duffle. Stay right with me.” Moving slowly, Jared reached down for his duffle and hoisted it, never once letting go of Jensen. Behind him, he sensed the spider shadow watching. Snapped a glance behind himself and then back at the darkness beyond Jensen.

 

The second shadow, stark black and hard edged, stuttered a little toward the two men, stopped when the spider shadow loomed darker. Figuring that he’d already lost his mind, Jared decided to go out on a limb and trust that he and Jensen could make it onto the plane without incident. 

 

“Jared, the spider-it’s moving! Jared, we’re going to die!” Jensen whispered, all his breath sucked away by terror. “I don’t want to die!”

 

“Hush, child,” came a quiet, disembodied thought. “Hush.” And, with that, the spider shadow glided right over the two thunderstruck actors and across the terminal toward the much smaller, blocky shadow that had threatened Jensen. Two seconds later, only the spider’s shadow walked along the wall. Three seconds after that, the spider shadow had departed as well.

 

Jensen blinked stupidly and did everything he could to process what he’d just seen. Then buried his face in Jared’s chest and did what any sensible soul who has just met one of the most ancient of the Old Ones would do. Barked a choked scream and passed out.

 

That noise, everyone heard. Juggling Jensen’s dead weight, and his own duffle as well as Jensen’s, Jared urged: “Jensen? C’mon now. Please, wake up. Dude, we’re going to miss the plane!” He realized just how intelligent his words sounded and flushed. But he also knew that they needed to be on the plane and out of Vancouver. “Jensen, wake up! C’mon. You can do it, man!”

 

“Mr. Padalecki, can we help?” Fortunately, the _guy behind the counter_ had seen Jared and Jensen enough both on TV and going through the airport to recognize them. 

 

“We need to get on the plane so I can make Jensen comfortable. He’s picked one of Dean’s phobias, I swear. Something about flying.” Jared adlibbed frantically, knowing he sounded idiotic, and hoping at the same time that the airline personnel would accept his explanation. In his arms, Jensen began to stir. “Jensen, come on. Open your eyes. We’re getting on the plane now. It’s okay, man.”

 

Jensen stirred a little and his eyes slitted. His lips moved and Jared leaned in close to hear him. “Am I too heavy?” Leave it to Jensen to think about that, Jared thought hysterically.

 

“No. C’mon man. Wake up a little more. That’s it.”

 

“Are you sure he’ll be all right once he’s aboard?”

 

“Yeah. The Dramamine kicked in way too early. He must be hyper sensitive to it or something.” _Good work, Padalecki. Sounds almost like you know what you’re talking about!_ “Jensen, try to walk. I’ve got you.”

 

During the long, slow walk down the jetway, Jared talked to Jensen, about seeing Jeff again, about meeting John Winchester and Sam and Dean. Not talking about what they’d seen. The flight attendant left them to their own devices after Jared hinted strongly that he’d be able to deal with Jensen and the Dramamine reaction. “Jensen?”

 

“Jared-water?”

 

“Right here. Slow down. You’ve had enough excitement for one morning.”

 

“Morning, nothing: how about a year? Jay, what’s going on?”

 

“I have no freakin’ idea. I don’t think I want to _have_ any kind of idea. All I do know is that we need to get to Denver.”

 

“Jay?”

 

“Sip a little more. That’s good.”

 

“Jay – man, all I could think was that we were going to die.”

“We didn’t. Did we?” Jared asked, speaking lightly, refusing to allow Jensen’s control to slip any further.

 

“No.”

 

“Then stop thinkin’ we might have. C’mon, Jensen. Get a little rest. It’s okay now.”

 

“No it isn’t. I didn’t imagine that. Did I?”

 

“The giant spider shadow? Nope. The way the shadow made a spider taco out of whatever that other shadow was? Nope.”

 

“It talked. The spider shadow talked.”

 

“Do you remember what it said?”

 

“’Hush, child.’ As plain as day. What the hell is going on here?” Bewildered and more than a little angry, Jensen frowned and glanced out the window near his seat. Clutched Jared’s hand and, much to his mortification, squeaked. “Jay? Look.”

 

“What, Jensen?”

 

“Against the wall.”

 

The shadow had altered, become something between two and three dimensional, partly a definite shadow, and partly like a clear glass filled with deep grey smoke. The boundaries between the _partly_ flowed into and out of each other as the shadow moved or rested in two dimensions against the wall of the concourse. As the plane filled and pre-flights were concluded, it moved forward, not exactly walking, not exactly floating. Jared squinted and realized that Grandmother Spider, for it was she (or she was it) had solidified enough to seem to stand on the tarmac, still unnoticed by everyone but himself and Jensen. “It looks like T’Klk. “ Jared muttered. “From that Star Trek book, The Wounded Sky. Like T’klk.”

 

“Close enough, child,” came the soft vast voice, humor under the three words. He realized that he’d evidently put his right hand in a vise when he wasn’t looking: all the sensation had been squeezed out of it.

 

By Jensen’s grip on him.

 

“Jared, _are_ we dead?”

 

“I don’t think so. Jensen, I have to get into my seat for takeoff.” The nice thing about first class? There was room enough for Jared’s long legs to be able to stretch. The not as nice thing about first class seemed to be the fact that Jensen couldn’t hang onto his hand if Jared sat down and strapped in. “Jensen?”

 

Jensen released Jared, but very reluctantly. “Jensen, I’m right over here. You’re alive enough to crush my fingers. “

 

“Jared? The spider’s still there.”

 

“Yeah, she is. Watching over us. “ From somewhere, far back in the deep memory where he stored data that he thought might someday be useful, Jared drew his next words. “You do us honor, lady.” directed at the gray-blackness beyond the plane. There came no verbal response, but a sense of warmth enveloped both Jared and Jensen.

 

As soon as the plane taxed from its gate, the spider shadow disappeared and didn’t return.

 

****

 

 

Still extremely shaken by what had happened at Vancouver, Jared and Jensen deplaned in Denver, cleared customs and took the underground train toward the surface shuttle platform. Jensen hadn’t let go of Jared for more than the time needed for the plane to land, and, as they were ferried out to West Economy, he showed no inclination to solo. 

 

Jared sighed to himself, regretting the times he’d thought that scaring Jensen out of thinking everything to death was a good idea. “Jensen? It’s okay, man.”

 

“Okay? No, okay is being in Vancouver in my bed asleep and not being wakened up in the middle of the night to find out that myths and fictional people are real. Okay is me not almost dying. Okay is me not almost losing you-“

 

Jensen swallowed and shut his mouth.

 

_Jensen, you picked one hell of a time to figure out how you feel about me._ Jared shook his head ruefully, but didn’t say anything aloud. Instead, he stood when their stop hove into view, held out his hand for Jensen to take and then tugged the shorter man to his feet. Jensen promptly tripped over the feet of the one remaining shuttle passenger and blushed to the roots of his hair as he mumbled an apology. “Swanlike grace – that’s you,” Jared murmured and smiled. “Let’s find the guys.”

 

Squinting in the bright sunlight, Jared retrieved his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and covered his eyes. “There they are, Jensen.” 

 

Jensen just stared at the two figures who stood in their aisle, watching them approach. Both men wore rugged boots and aged to softness jeans. Both wore heavy twill outer jackets and both stared at the two actors. As they neared the Winchesters, Jared noticed that Sam bore a scar down the side of his neck, just above the collar line. Dean’s hair, short and spiky as it was, was also shorter than Jensen’s. 

 

And the two hunters watched like hawks as Jared and Jensen neared them.

 

“Huh? Where? Oh my god. Sam – that is Sam, right - is taller than you are, Jay.” 

 

“I’m slouching a little. C’mon, man. Let’s-” Jared let out an exasperated sigh when he realized that Jensen, ever cautious, had begun to slow down as the distance between themselves and Sam and Dean narrowed. “Jensen, c’mon!” He tugged experimentally at Jensen’s hand. “They’re not going to bite.” Laughing a little, he added, “My man, you have survived shadows and a meeting with Grandmother Spider so far today. The Winchesters are mortals!”

 

“And your brain is freakishly huge. How did you know that?”

 

“Ahem, fortunately for you, I do read Charles de Lint, although he didn’t make Grandmother Spider up. And K’tlk? One of the best characters in Star Trek fiction ever. Diane Duane: I’ll loan it to you to read. Now, come on. We have some Winchesters to meet.”

 

At the far end of the West Economy Parking lot, Dean watched intently as their two look-alikes neared Sam and him.

 

“Sammy, stay behind me. Don’t argue!” Dean rarely spoke to his lover in those tones, and, although he knew after one look that neither Jay nor Jensen posed a threat, Sam did as he was told. One finger hooked through Dean’s back belt loop, and Dean looked around and up at his brother. “Baby, just stay close, okay?” He smiled at Sam’s quiet nod then turned to face front.

 

“I will. Dean, they even look like us!”

 

“We’re handsomer.” Dean muttered. 

 

“You’re handsomer.” Sam purred, a smile evident in the heat of his voice. 

 

“Are you looking for a little action right here, baby?”

 

“Just claiming. No one touches you but me.” Sam heard Dean’s chuckle and released his belt loop just long enough to squeeze Dean’s ass. “Dean? Uh-what do we say to ‘em?”

 

“They speak English, Sam. Phone calls? Remember?”

 

Jensen had released Jared’s hand when they spotted the two Winchesters. But he stayed within touching distance as they closed the gap between themselves and the other two men. “Jay, what do we say to ‘em?”

 

“Uh, hello? They speak English, Jensen. Phone calls, remember?”

 

Somewhere around five feet from each other, the two pairs of men came to a halt. Flinty eyed and on high alert, Dean stared at Jensen, first, and then at Jared. Cocked his head to one side and considered for a moment before he nodded. 

 

Jensen, for his part, realized that the reality of Dean Winchester was plain every day intimidating. Dean’s eyes held a hard edge and his stare bit like broken glass on bare skin. Although he was staring at Jaren and Jensen, how knew what was happening for several hundred feet around the four of them. He’d read enough fanfiction to see how people viewed Dean’s role, but the reality was sharper and solid as a rock. Jensen nodded back.

 

About three inches over the other two men, Sam and Jared held their own silent conversations and assessments. Sam smiled a little at Jared and spoke first, ‘Jared? I’m Sam.”

 

“Hey, man.”

 

“Silent and shorter here is Dean.”

 

“Silent and shorter _here_ is Jensen.”

 

“Yeah, hey,” was Dean’s contribution to the flood of words.

 

“Hey.” Jensen prided himself in his succinctness.

 

Everyone dropped into staring mode, again, both of the younger men waiting for their elders to stop posturing. 

 

The silent-off could have continued until dark. Then, just as he was about to say something to the effect of “Can we just go see Jeff?” Jared spotted _her_ , waiting like the lady she was, out of the sun, in the shadow of a red Dodge Ram 3200 that had obviously been parked where it was just to shield her. The Impala. _The_ Impala. His eyes went round and a grin quirked across his face. “Man, can I – uh- ” he asked Dean.

 

“Huh? Oh..yeah, sure. Sam..” The last word a caution to his brother, who smiled at him and nodded, waited until Dean turned to him. “Make sure he doesn’t dent anything. “Go on. And _you_ , don’t scratch her.”

 

“Scratch her? Hell no!” Jay replied, horrified at the thought.

 

Sam joined Jared as he headed to the car. _The car._ Behind the two men, Dean frowned. “What _is_ it about this car? Jeff knew about it before the first time he saw it. And he damned near cried the when he got to drive it.”

 

 

“Jeff got to drive the Impala?” 

 

“Yeah. Do you want to drive it?” Dean heard Jensen’s inhalation and rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay- maybe after we get to Breckenridge. Oh shit!” Dean winced. 

 

“Uh? What?”

 

“They’re both giants. That puts us in the back seat.”

 

“No problem here. “

 

“That means Sam’ll be driving.”

 

“That bad?” Jensen asked.

 

“No. Worse.” 

 

“I heard that, Dean,” Sam called.

 

“All right, all right. But keep it under the speed limit. I’ve adjusted the carb, but I don’t want her having to do too much, especially once we get out of the foothills.”

 

“She’s a car, not a horse, Dean. She’ll be all right.”

 

“Uhmm-sure she will…” Dean tried to frown, but he knew it was just for effect. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

 

“How far is it to Breckenridge from here?” Jensen looked blearily to the western horizon and frowned: he’d had enough day to deal with already. 

 

“A little over a hundred miles. The sooner we get moving, the better. What? Sam? Oh, yeah. After we get some food. Frances here needs to eat. And I suppose you two do.”

 

“We need to talk.” Jared interrupted.


	11. Chapter 10

  
Author's notes: “Floyd Hill really does exist. Funny name for a serious hill. Loveland pass is real, the Tunnel is real. So is the 7 percent grade: actually, it can seem surreal. I miss Colorado. I hope you’re liking the story!”  


* * *

Chapter 10

 

 

“Why don’t I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I hear those four words?” Dean wondered out loud. 

 

Jared lost track of the conversation when he chanced to look up and saw the panorama laid out before his eyes. From North to South, high peaks glistening with snowpack, the Rockies sprawled with the lazy ease of something that belongs where it is and does so on its own terms. Turning on his heel, he took in the lie of the land off to the east and realized for just a flash in time exactly how small they were, the four of them and the car. How small they and how vast the sky and the earth-

 

Jared jumped when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

 

“Jared, are you sure we should-“Jensen ventured uneasily. “I mean, it could have been our-“

“Imaginations? Is that what you’re thinkin’? Both of us? At the same time? Jensen, c’mon!” Jared protested quietly.

 

Jensen frowned, but he also nodded agreement. Sam, still thinking about the Crow Girls and Coyote, picked up on the fact that something else must have happened.

 

Dean caught the look that passed between Sam and Jared. _Uh oh_. Aloud, he barked “Spill it. What’s goin’ on?”

 

“We had trouble at the airport in Vancouver.”

 

“What kind of trouble?” Dean grated. 

 

Sam added “Our kind of trouble?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“And what the hell does that mean? Or am I supposed to play twenty questions? Sammy?”

 

“Dean, Jared and Jensen were at the airport. I wasn’t.”

 

“So the looks you two are trading _aren’t_ some kind of secret code? Let’s just get into the car and get the hell out of here. We’re in the open. Just in case you missed the fact.”

 

“I didn’t, Dean.” 

 

Damnit, there it was that slightly hurt voice that chewed up a perfectly nice set of anger and left a thoroughly gummed _It’s okay, Sammy_ which really meant _I didn’t mean to get pissed at you, Sammy._ Sam smiled a little and winked: _I know. I love you_.

 

“Okay. Sammy, there was a Denny’s a couple of miles back down whatever the hell this street’s number is. At least we’ll be pointed in the right direction. I’d like to make Breckenridge before dawn tomorrow. C’mon you two – let’s get the hell out of here.” 

 

Then he watched. Jensen got into the car without further ado. Sam took a quiet look around and slid into the driver’s seat. Jared finished a quick look around and followed suit. _That kid knows more than he’s saying_ were the only words that came to Dean’s mind as he checked the trunk lid one more time and settled in behind Sam. Dean wondered briefly if he’d done something worse than usual in a previous life. Two sasquatches with a bad habit of being smart and a nervous wreck – nice trip back to the mountains he was going to have.

 

 

“Sam, I think we’re going to need the maps.” Dean saw Jared’s head nod in tacit agreement; the hunter’s eyebrow arched a bit. 

“Yeah. Jared – under the seat on your right. Should be a folder. Yeah, that’s it.”

 

 

Jensen’s eyes were closed, but his breathing signaled loud and clear that he was awake. _Oh hell, he’s_ thinking. _A_ nervous _thinker. I’m doomed_.

 

In the diner’s parking lot, Dean took over.“You two stay between Sam and me. Sam, take point.”

 

“Got it, Dean.”

 

Jensen reached for Jared’s hand and clung to it the minute their fingers touched. Gently, Jared shepherded Jensen to walk in front of him: his shoulders straightened, despite his general weariness. Jared Padalecki was protecting the person he loved. The same way that Dean protected Sam and, although he didn’t want to admit it aloud, the same way Sam protected him. 

 

Jensen, however, was a mystery. He allowed Jared to protect him, his only independent movement having come when he’d reached for Jared’s hand. He’d shut himself down immediately once he was in the car.

 

If Dean hadn’t seen him attempt to slow Jared down on the walk across the airport parking lot, he might have figured that Jensen was just tired. But _oh_ no. Jensen was a thinker. A shorter, less intense version of Sammy when he got an idea into his head. And stubborn to boot if that hesitation had been any indication. Well, there wasn’t anything for it but to keep the guy off balance. 

 

“What happened in Vancouver?” Dean asked Jensen as soon as the waitress had taken their orders. 

 

“Two shadows.” Jensen replied. “They were just – there.”

 

“I think one was Grandmother Spider,” Jared volunteered quietly. He flinched a little, waiting for Dean’s sarcastic comeback. “I think.”

 

That was when Jared heard the difference between Jensen as Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester himself. The Hunter’s eyebrows both arched as he digested Jared’s words. “Jensen, did you see her too?”

 

“You – don’t think we’re crazy?” Jensen ventured.

 

“I think you’re lucky if that’s who you saw.” Dean cocked his head to one side and frowned. “You don’t believe you saw her?”

 

‘I saw her. She said ‘Hush, child’. Just like that.” Jensen replied, imitating the deep whispery words he’d heard. 

 

Dean nodded. “And the other shadow? You’re sure it shouldn’t have been where it was?”

 

“It was just a shadow kind of sprawled along and up the wall across from us. There wasn’t anything that could have cast it. And-“Jared hesitated again. “Then she – ate it? That’s what it looked like. She crossed over us and she – I guess, absorbed it?”

 

Dean’s face went very quiet. “Ah. And you saw the Grandmother again?”

 

“She was on the tarmac watching the plane.” Jensen started. “The shadow – it looked like I should be able to touch it.” 

 

“What about when you landed in Denver?”

 

“I didn’t see anything. Jensen, did you?”

 

“I didn’t look.” Jensen shuddered. Jared curled his arm around Jensen’s shoulders and tugged him closer. Jensen smiled back at him and lost track of what he’d been talking about. Across the booth, Sam did his best not to look at Dean who, he knew, was ready to make an observation or three of his own. Attempting to steer the moment back toward things that go bump in the night, he asked ““Jay, did you see anything else? The Crow Girls? Coyote?”

 

“What?” Dean interrupted. “Who said anything about Coyote? Or the Crow Girls?” 

 

“Nope – nothing.” Jared answered Sam, although he didn’t turn his head as he spoke. Dean shifted so his thigh rested against Sam’s. Their private signal to each other to pay attention. “Wait a minute. Sam, you _did_ just say the Crow Girls?”

 

“Er-yeah. I was going to tell you about it, but we’ve been busy. Jared just told me this morning after Jensen talked to Jeff and dad.”

 

“We need to eat and get on the road. I was thinking about figuring out a back way up instead of getting us stuck in any traffic slowdown at the tunnel, but now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” 

 

Jared felt Jensen stir beside him. “Did you remember something, Jen?”

 

“Yeah. Remember? It was like no one else could see the shadows or even hear us. I was shouting: I know that. And everyone just sat doing what they’d been doing. Didn’t even look up. Until the spider shadow swallowed up the other shadow.” Jensen didn’t add that that had been the point at which he’d fainted. 

 

“Jensen’s right. There wasn’t any noise other than us – no background noise, no people talking-“ Jared hesitated, squinting for just a second. “I thought that – no I’m mixing things up. We were the only two people reacting to the shadows.”

 

“Okay. We’ll figure that out later. “

“Here.” Jared handed over money.

 

“That’s a hell of a lot of money for breakfast.”

 

“And gas. Does it cost money to go through the tunnel you’re talking about?”

 

“Nope. No toll roads in Colorado.”

 

“Then gas and whatever the Impala needs. We need to stay low and get to Jeff and your dad, right? I got some cash from an ATM. Went out before I woke you up, Jensen.”

 

“You went out alone at night? Are you crazy?” Dean barked. 

 

“Lookin’ back? Maybe. But it seemed all right at the time.”

 

“The gods watch innocents and idiots. Never believed it before, but boy do I believe it now.” Dean replied, shaking his head.

 

Jared finished before everyone and decided to go out and check the car. He couldn’t get rid of the nagging little thought that pounded insistently at his mind. Something didn’t feel right, in the middle of an entire day of nothing feeling right. 

 

Sam had parked the car at the side of the restaurant since every place in front had been occupied. Jared had just started around the corner when he caught a glimpse of movement. Someone was using a jimmy to get the Impala’s passenger side window open. 

 

“Hey! Get away from that car!” Jared bellowed. Startled and cornered between two cars, the stranger wheeled and threw the jimmy at Jared, who dodged it and took off after whoever the guy was. Off to his left, he saw Sam, who had sprinted from the restaurant the second he heard Jared’s shout. “Jared! Stay HERE!” And he took off after the guy. Flattened to the ground when Mr. Sweetness pulled a handgun and threatened him with it. The threat was a stall and bought the guy enough time to reach the car he’d left idling, throw the door open, slither in , slap pedal to the metal, and careen out into the street. By the time Dean caught up with Sam, the car had disappeared in traffic heading toward Denver.

 

“Son of a bitch! Baby, are you okay?” Dean knelt by Sam and whispered to him. “What the hell were you thinkin’ going after someone like that? You aren’t packing!”

 

“I’m good. He was fucking with the car. Jared surprised him. Ouch! That hurts!”

 

“You never could steal home worth a damn. C’mon, up on your feet.” Dean glanced at the scrape down the outside of Sam’s forearm. “You sure you’re all right?”

 

“Yeah. Jay, you okay?”

 

“Yep. No problem. Jensen, come on here. It’s all right.”

 

“Dude, he had a gun!” Jensen sounded mad enough to murder Jared. Which, of course, he wouldn’t. Which made him even madder.

 

“Which he didn’t use. And I wasn’t the one runnin’ after him anyway.”

 

“He still could have shot you, you idiot!”

 

Sam glanced at Dean, whose smile vanished the minute he knew he was being watched. “Sound like us, don’t they?”

 

“Not remotely. We don’t shout in the middle of parking lots. Well, not much. I’m going to go and check the car. If that sonofabitch hurt her, I’m going to hunt him down.” 

 

Sam glanced back over at the actors and then scanned their immediate area. He didn’t see anything. But in the back of his mind, loud as it had been that day weeks before in the Stone Farm’s barn, came a warning. “Get out of here. _Now._ ”

 

“Dean, we’ve been here too long.”

 

“But he didn’t even try. Jensen, I promise I won’t go running after vandals again. I promise. Stop shouting, okay?”

 

“I’m not shouting! THIS IS SHOUTING!”

 

“I stand corrected. Stop speaking loudly.”

 

“Padalecki, I am not going to lose you. Do you hear me?”

 

“You won’t. Believe me.” Jared stepped in close to Jensen and enfolded the man in a gentle embrace. “I promise. Get in the car. ” Jensen nodded and let Jared manhandle him into the back seat. Once again, Jared kept the watch until Sam turned the key in the Impala’s ignition. Something- he frowned, but firmly told himself that he was too tired to know reality from a piss hole in a snowbank. Even his metaphors were unseasonal. 

 

Sam glanced at Jared – "can you keep an eye out off right? Dean?”

“Got it. “

 

“What about me?” Jensen interrupted.

 

“How would you even know what to look for?”

 

“2001 Ford midsize two-door, green, Colorado license plates 7LB-14OZ. Single driver, blue t-shirt, dark hair. Is that good enough?” Jensen cocked his head to one side and waited for Dean’s reply. “You’ve got our six,” the older hunter grunted. Jensen nodded and turned to watch behind them.

 

“You think we should give Dad a call?”

 

“Maybe. Yeah. Here’s hopin’ there’s a signal.” 

 

“You got through to us all right”

 

“We were more or less on the same side of the mountains as you, too. C’mon Dad. Pick up the damn phone.” Abruptly, the phone dropped into search mode. Jared tossed Dean his satellite link and they tried again. “Something’s blocking us.”

 

“I wonder if that asshole stuck something under the frame.” Dean snarled. “We can’t take the time to stop right now. But we need to get off this damned road for awhile so I can check.”

 

“Not until after we get to Idaho Springs. There’re be less traffic then and fewer people using side roads to get home.” Sam added, “There’s a frontage road along the south side of the interstate for a few miles after Idaho Springs. We can use that and jump back on again at the far end of the road. “

 

“Good. Anything else, Sammy?”

 

“I was looking at Loveland Pass instead of the tunnel, but I don’t like the odds. It’s above the tree line, way too open, and –“

 

“We’d be in trouble if we had to stop the car at that altitude,” Jensen finished. “She has a carburetor and they are not easy to get going at 11,000 feet no matter how well they’ve been tuned.” For the first time since he’d been wakened at the ungodly hour of whatever o’clock, Jensen felt like an intelligent human being.

 

Dean nodded and stared at the map again.

 

“We go through the tunnel. I just wish it wasn’t so damn long.”

 

“At least we only have to deal with traffic going the same way we are. Then, once we’re on the other side-“Sam grinned at the thought of the west approach road. Dean did _not_ grin at the thought of the west approach road.

 

“You will obey the law. Sam, that slope is steeper than seven percent, no matter what the authorities say. And you do not want to know what I would do to you if you had to drive my baby into one of those safety pull offs. You really do not want to know.”

 

“All right, all right. When did you get to be such an old man?”

 

“Right after I agreed to let you drive back. Watch the damn road, will you!”

 

“Yes, dear.” 

 

***

 

Idaho Springs cowered for its life at the bottom of the innocently named Floyd Hill. Whoever Floyd was, he must have had one heck of a life, Dean muttered to himself at the top of the steep slope. As the Impala picked up speed on the five percent grade, Dean did his best not to tell Sam how to drive. Started to warn him to pump the brakes, to take his time, when Sam calmly pumped the brakes and took his time, letting others with less to lose go tearing down the hill and into the sharp left handed curve at the bottom. 

 

Jared grinned at Sam and back over his shoulder at Dean. “Can we go up and drive down again? That was awesome!”

 

“Uh, that would be ‘no’” Dean replied. He also did his best to ignore the fact that Sam was going to be driving down the West approach to the Eisenhower tunnel. 

 

“Dean? We have company. Two cars behind,” Jensen muttered. 

 

Instantly, Dean went on alert. “Sam, can you spot him?”

 

“Just a minute…yeah. ”

 

“Where’s the next exit?”

 

“Half a mile.”

 

“Take it.”

Jared watched in amazement as the Winchesters slipped effortlessly into hunting mode. “Jensen, you up for this? If you aren’t, just don’t get in the way. Same for you, Jared.”

 

“I’m up for it,” Jensen grated. Jared heard Dean Winchester in his voice and smiled a bit. “Me, too.”

 

“Hang on,” were Sam’s only words. Without warning, he slid the Impala off the interstate, moving at the very last possible second to take the exit. Their shadow didn’t have a chance: he sped by at seventy mph.

 

“Stay in the car!”

 

He and Dean scrambled for the trunk. Sam grabbed their weapons while Dean slid under the car, located the jamming device, and rolled back out again. He stomped the electronics into the dirt at the side of the road.“Jared, can you handle a shotgun?” 

 

“Yeah.” Jared took one look at the sawed off shotgun and the rounds that Dean handed him and smiled grimly. “I have a feeling that guy is human.”

 

“You’ve never been shot in the balls with rock salt, have you?” Sam asked innocently. Just before he started laughing.

 

“Jensen – “

 

“I’ll stick with the knife. Damned altitude is messing with my head. I’d probably shoot Jared instead of our little buddy out there.”

 

“Jared – there’s aspirin in the glove box. Get some for Jensen. Water in a bottle under the seat.”

 

“Dean? Which way?”

 

“We get in behind him and follow him. Keep the weapons down. If he starts shooting, you two plant your faces in the seats until we tell you it’s okay. “

 

Sam glanced back at Dean, off center because his lover sat behind him rather than beside him. “Dean?”

 

“Sammy.” Dean shook his head, warning Sam not to go any further. Fortunately, Jared had other ideas.

 

“Dean, it makes more sense for the two of you to be in the front.” Jared glanced over his shoulder at Jensen, who nodded as enthusiastically as someone with a massive altitude induced headache could. 

 

“Yeah. Okay. Sammy, I’m drivin’”

 

“Try to keep it over 45.”

 

“Smartass. Keep an eye out for that car.”

 

“He’s going to come back around, y’know.”

 

“Either that or wait for us up ahead. And that’s assuming he doesn’t have someone else workin’ with him. Try to get through to Dad. We need to warn him.”

 

****

 

John answered the phone on the second ring. “Where are you?”

 

“We just left Idaho Springs on 70-next town is Dumont. Dad, where’s Jeff?”

 

“Right here.”

 

“Are you two inside?”

 

“Uh – no. Not that it’s any concern of yours.”

 

“Dad, we have company. And we don’t know if he’s alone.”

 

“Okay. We’ll head back to the house.”

 

“Head- I don’t want to know. Do I?”

 

John sighed. “We went to the Safeway in Frisco. We’re on our way back right now.”

 

“Uh – okay. Dad, I couldn’t call you earlier because the guy fucked with the car. Jamming device.”

 

“These folks are serious.”

 

“Ya think?”

 

John shook his head and snapped the cel closed. Beside him, Jeff opened his eyes and looked up. “Something’s wrong.”

 

“I think so. But not here. Not yet.”

 

“John, we need to go back to the house.”

 

“’Fraid so. C’mon. Let me help you down.” He jumped out of the bed of his truck and reached up for Jeff, who slid off the tailgate and into his arms. “I think you might have put on some more weight! I can actually tell there’s someone in my arms when I pick you up!”

 

“Put me the freak **down**! I can walk!” Jeff protested around his laughter. John set him down, kissed him tenderly and smiled into his eyes. “But I don’t think I want to,” he added a minute later. “John?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Should we go and meet the guys?”

 

John didn’t answer right away. His first instinct had been to take the truck and intercept his sons and their passengers. But he didn’t want to subject Jeff to that strain. Nor did he want to leave him alone at the cabin. Bonnie and Hal were there, of course, but he only trusted himself to watch Jeff. “No. I think they’ll be all right. If they aren’t here by sunset, I’ll phone them. But I think that Dean’s right. We should get back to the house.” John tugged Jeff’s jacket tightly around him and helped him up into the truck. “Storm’s brewing. ” 

 

John was staring at the sky, but he felt the change in Jeff immediately. 

 

“Afraid.”

 

“Of the storm?” John took one look at Jeff’s pinched and pale face and scrambled for the driver’s seat. “Baby boy, what’s happening?”

 

“They’ll come back- they’ll come back.”

 

“The boys?”

 

“They’ll come back and I won’t – you’ll go and I won’t - John!!!” Desperate, Jeff clung to John. “John, John- please-they’ll come back!”

 

“The guys who took you?”

 

“I’m stupid, stupid, stupid-”

 

“No. You’re not. Jeff, look at me. Jeff?” John waited until Jeff’s eyes opened. “You’re not stupid. Jeff, you’re having a panic attack. That’s what this is. Do you know what a panic attack is?”

 

Jeff’s eyes widened, but John sensed a slight relaxing of the death grip on his wrists. A tight nod that hurt just to watch. “Remember? The doc said you’d have ‘em. I’m here. And no one – **NO ONE** – is going to hurt you or take you. I swear it.”

 

Jeff nodded, each motion of his head throwing him off balance. His fear triggered urgency inside John, and the Hunter started the truck, backed out of the Reservoir Pull Out where they’d lazed for an hour, and headed for the cabin. Beside him, Jeff kept a stranglehold on his shirtsleeve. Slowly began to breathe more smoothly. By the time they pulled into the driveway, he could say more than one word. If he concentrated. And he needed to concentrate. “John.”

 

“Stay right there. I’ll get you down.”

 

“John?”

 

“Right here, baby boy.” Jeff touched John’s lips with his fingertips. 

 

“John.”

 

“What, Jeff?” John smiled up at him and held out his hands to help him to the ground.

 

“You-make me real.”

 

John’s smile softened and he wrapped his arms around Jeff. “You make me real, too. I love you, Jeffrey Dean.”

 

“I love you, John.”

 

_-No laughter, brother. Remember the effect it has!_

_-If they only knew. And I wish them the joy of the learning!_

_-Old romantic. That’s you._

_-Who is calling whom old?_

 

****

 

Just the other side of Georgetown, things went from watchful to combat in about fifteen seconds. Jensen, head no longer hurting after six aspirin and half a bottle of water, watched the rock face through which the road had been cut. “Dean! Boulder!! Rock slide! Go Go GO!!!! 

 

Dean floored the accelerator only to find it already almost buried in the floorboards. The engine screamed into overdrive and pushed the car through traffic, off to the left curb and then straight on away from the carnage of crunched and ditched vehicles created by the sudden slide. Behind them, and just to the right of the road, a car growled and scrabbled back onto the highway. 

 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean snarled. “Sam, get a fix on that asshole! Jensen – good work! Jared, you there?”

 

“On it, man!” Sam craned his neck around and stared at Jared, who’d cocked the shotgun and settled as firmly as a careening car would allow. 

 

“Something went wrong with –“ The accelerator responded obediently to his foot, just as if it hadn’t been stuck. Dean shook his head sharply. “We’re getting through that tunnel without those guys. Somehow.”

 

“If we get there,” Sam countered. “Jensen, stay low.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“Jared?”

“Pay attention to the road, willya? Is there anywhere else those assholes could set off a rock-fucking slide?”

 

“Too many places.”

 

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

 

Sweating, Dean maintained control of the car using a combination of sheer muscle and invective. 

 

“FUCK!” Up ahead, another scrabble of rocks had begun to pelt down onto the highway. Behind them, their pursuer sped up, closing the trap. “Sam-“

 

“Keep driving! We don’t stop for anything! That’s what that guy wants!”

 

And, just as it had for years, the Impala got them through, dented and dinged by small rocks, but well clear of the boulders that should have smashed them into the ground. Belying its bulk, it danced along the very edge of the shoulder, not slipping, holding the road as if both the road and its tires were Velcro. 

 

“How far to the goddamn tunnel?”

 

“About eight miles. Dean, keep drivin’. Jared, Jensen, you guys okay?”

“Hell yeah!” Jared growled. 

 

“Yeah, what he said,” Jensen added, his voice squeaking a bit. “You got an extra gun? Just in case?”

 

“Sam, give him this. You ever shoot a real one, Ackles?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Don’t use it unless there’s nothing else we can do.”

 

“Got it.”

 

The good news was that their little four wheeled shadow had been neatly trapped in the last rock slide. The bad news was that they had no idea how many friends he had. And then they saw the pink Malibu. 

 

Astride the middle of the two westbound lanes.

 

With two flat tires.

 

And two elderly ladies wandering around it looking at the flats, wringing their hands and sobbing.

 

“Dean, get around them!” Jared snapped. “ **Get around them!** ”

 

Forced to slow down rather than smash straight into the situation, Dean cursed to himself. “What-“

 

“Get past them! **DO IT!** ”

 

Sam’s head whipped around and he glared at Jared, who just shook his head and raised the shotgun. “Back window!”

 

Dean floored the car again, hoping against hope that the old woman nearest him would get the hint and move her ass. In a most un-oldlady like way, she vaulted onto the hood of her car rather than be turned into roadkill. “Her” wig, however, met a darker fate as it was chewed to ribbons under the Impala’s rear wheels. Dean heard Jared shout something about a rear window and squinted. Goddamn! Light caught a glint of metal. A rifle barrel. He juked the car to the very edge of the left shoulder again and sped up. Heard a bullet zip along his baby’s hood leaving a nasty scrape and heard Jared’s shotgun cough in reply. Sam fired as well and kept up his “Get through, Dean. Get through.” Four miles to the tunnel. 

 

And then – an elk walked onto the highway behind them. An elk the size of a pygmy elephant. It turned its head to look at the Impala, and Jensen saw a man’s face where the elk’s should have been. The Glock Dean had loaned him thumped to the car seat and he stared at Jared, who had dropped his shotgun as well. Jensen’s mouth opened and shut silently. The elk pawed the road with one front hoof and the pink car and its passengers – all of them – simply ceased to exist.

 

Darkness swept into place around the Impala.

 

Sam peered up at the star- riddled sky in wonder. Behind him, Jared pulled Jensen into his embrace and stared fearfully beyond the Impala. Another breath and late afternoon shone around them. And the tunnel lay only twenty feet ahead. Without hesitation, Dean slowed the car to the speed limit and entered the westbound bore. 

 

****

 

The everyday sounds of dozens of cars going through the tunnel and the reassuring rumble of the Impala’s engine drummed away some of the insanity of the preceding miles. Sam, his adrenaline still pumping through him wildly, reached for Dean’s hand and clung tight. Dean, madder than he was scared, squeezed Sam’s hand in return. Behind them, Jared double checked a bump on Jensen’s forehead: he’d slid into the side of the Impala at least one time during their wild ride.

 

“Everybody okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Did you see what I saw?”

 

“Yes.” Dean didn’t elaborate. He did, however, notice the surprise and dismay on Jared’s face. “We need to pay attention once we get out the other side. They may try something again.”

 

“After that?”

 

“After that.”

 

Cautiously, they exited the tunnel, the car moving at a sedate 45 miles per hour, the rest of traffic equally quiet. When Dean’s phone rang, every man in the car jumped, startled.

 

“Dad?”

 

“You guys all right? Hal just called in, said there’d been rockslides on the East side of the tunnel.”

 

‘Yeah, Dad. On our way.”

 

Jared felt sleep overwhelming him and murmured to Jensen “Get some rest. Just for a few minutes.” 

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Ummm?”

 

“They didn’t know who he was.”

 

“I know. Weird.”

 

“Just a little more weird to add in to every other weird thing."


	12. Chapter 11

John closed his pen and shut it in the current page of his journal. Sprawled across the bed, head and shoulders comfortably cradled on the hunter’s belly, face covered by the fingers of his left hand, Jeff slept. Watching him, John grinned wryly, remembering the indignation that had flushed Jeff’s cheeks earlier when John had suggested a nap.

 

_”A nap?_ I (deep breath around ‘am’) not three! I don’t want a nap.”

 

“How’s it going to look if you fall asleep when you’re saying ‘Hi’ to your friends?” 

 

“ John, I rested my eyes when we pulled out there at the res-res-water!”

 

“Nap. I have journaling to do. After all, it’s not every day – uh, every week?- that weeks like this last one happen.”

 

“I can watch! I don’t need a nap!”

 

“Which would be convincing if you weren’t yawning every other word.” 

 

Then John had seen it. Just a flicker of fear under Jeff’s petulance. _“I’m going to stay in here while you sleep. I mean, if you don’t mind, that is.”_

_“Right here? Oh crap, I didn’t just say that out loud, did I?_

_“Right here. Yes, you did. But I’ll overlook it. Because I’m just that kind of guy.”_

 

John touched the back of the younger man’s hand with the tips of his fingers. Beneath them, Jeff stirred and half opened his eyes, nosed deeper and yawned before he settled back down. Not even the rumble of the Impala woke him. 

 

****

 

“We’re here, guys.” Sam reached over the back of the seat and nudged Jared’s knee. Jared roused slowly, sluggish after much too short a cat nap. In his arms, Jensen didn’t stir. Regretting the necessity, Jared called the other man’s name softly and kissed his eyelids. Smiled when Jensen squinted his eyes open and wrinkled his nose rather than moving enough to scratch it.

 

“Are we there?”

 

“Yup. Let’s go see Jeff.”

 

“Uhmmm…tenshecondsh” Jensen slurred, dozing back off again. Chuckling to himself, Jared shook his head and repeated “Jeff! In the house. Up and attem!” Jared laughed outright at Jensen’s sleepy, disgruntled frown and opened the car door. 

 

“Jared, stand down. Let Dean go first,” Sam ordered before Jared could lope into the house and upset the furniture. And, far more dangerously, John Winchester.

 

“Guys, we’re hunters. You gotta remember that. Dad’ll blow your brains out if you startle him. Especially now.”

 

“Sorry, Dean. I wasn’t thinking.” Jared heard Sam whuff out a laugh and flushed bright pink. “Well, I wasn’t. Thinking, that is.” Jared glanced down when Jensen decided that holding hands wasn’t enough and wrapped his arm around Jared’s. Ahead of them, Dean knocked on the front door and opened it.

 

“Dad? We’re coming in. It’s the four of us,” Dean called out.

 

Jared glanced at Jensen. “You ready for this?” 

 

“As ready-yeah. I’m ready. C’mon, Jay.” 

 

They stepped into the warm cabin and Sam shut the door behind them while Dean knocked on another door and slipped inside. A moment later, John walked out of the bedroom. “Everyone in one piece?” he asked quietly.

 

John didn’t feel like he was in one piece. Sound asleep on the bed behind him, Jeff hadn’t stirred when John left him to his dreams. The urge to return to Jeff’s side bit deep, and John blinked at the intensity of the feeling. He convinced himself that he needed to check out the newcomers, to keep Jeff safe, and that logic appeared to be enough to calm the jitteriness that came with leaving Jeff for even a few minutes. 

 

 

The tall one, Jared, looked at him and, suddenly, smiled broadly. All the way to his eyes, for which John felt inordinately relieved. Being accepted by Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles had become the number one priority in John’s list of things that would make Jeff happy. “Sir.” Jared said just the one word, but it was enough for John. He took a step forward and shook Jared’s hand firmly.

 

“Jared, is it?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Got here all right.”

 

“Yessir. Thanks to Dean and Sam.”

 

“Jared, you held your own pretty well,” Dean interrupted gruffly.

 

“And this is Jensen?”

 

“S-ir-” Jensen started shaking then. He couldn’t get enough air, and the room had begun a slow, lazy slip to the side. “D-John-“. Jared caught him around the waist and John grabbed him by the shoulders, cool and calming at the same time. 

 

“Couch. Now.”

 

“I’m okay – just the altitude. Okay.” Jensen rambled. 

 

“I think you startled him, sir,” Jared explained. Behind him, he heard Sam chuckle.

 

“He has that effect on a lot of people.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, son. Jensen, you feeling passing out?”

 

“N-no. I’m just dizzy, ‘sall.”

 

“Jared, raise his feet with the couch pillows. Jensen, just stay there until the room stops spinning, okay?”

 

Jensen flopped back onto the couch and watched Sam, Jared and John talking just to his left. He was tired and his head hurt like a mother again and knew he should stay awake, just to be polite, so he forced his eyes to stay open until they didn’t. Just like that, Jensen fell asleep. 

 

Delta sleep. So far below everything that had happened that he didn’t dream.

 

****

 

“John?”

 

“Yup?”

 

“I can’t wake Jensen up.” Jared’s voice shook. “He’s just lying there. I can’t wake him up.”

 

“Easy, Jared. Just a second. Can I take a look at him?”

 

“Yessir,” Jared responded immediately, the steadiness in John’s voice a lifeline.

 

“He’s breathing fine.” John pinched Jensen’s forearm – hard- and the sleeping man grumbled and yanked away. “He doesn’t like pain. Jared, he’s out for the count. Give him a few more minutes.”

 

Coming back up from the utter black blankness of Delta level sleep, Jensen bumped into something skittering along on its own business, a deep brown and wild orange ribbon of song that he could have sworn looked at him and pricked fox ears that it hadn’t had before. Curious, aware that he should be cautious of whatever it was, but not the least bit uneasy, Jensen followed it up toward more light. Voices. The mink brown and orange thing flowed and slid like silk around him, laughter in its music.

 

He didn’t want to wake up. Waking up would mean that he’d be back In Vancouver at the airport and the spider would get him. Except that the spider was something called Grandmother Spider and not an enemy like the old ladies in the pink Malibu were. Jared? Are you safe? Damn, we should have stayed home!

 

John? Silent, confused by colors and music he’d never heard before, Jensen cocked his head to one side and examined the larger, much stronger green and gold song that shepherded both Jensen and brown and orange thing toward consciousness. Beyond green and gold, timid and terribly battered along its edges, a smaller silver blue scarving of light and sound rested, secure. Jensen knew it to be Jeff, although he had no clear reason why he should know.

 

And then out of nowhere, laughing out loud, its music clear, flowed Jared’s color all silver ocean foam and song. Jensen knew that as well as he had known John’s color song. The rich arpeggios and quieter glissandos punctuated music that _was_ the sound of water over rocks and water whispering against the shore, all of them Jared. _Jared paused in mid-word, something in him laughing, something in him calling him to turn toward Jensen who lay silent on the couch. Something in him causing him to smile, eyes alight. Song to song._ Jensen felt his color song shift and pay attention to the music of its lover. Lover- lover? Jensen came awake in a rush, startling everyone in the room. 

 

In the brief beat of time between him waking and his first words, he felt green gold supporting him and his own song, newborns in need of great care. Unlike Jared. Bewildered, overwhelmed, Jensen peered up into John’s eyes.

 

“Dad-please-don’t die. Please don’t make that deal. I need you here-please.” He muttered, trying to recall whether what he was saying was part of the script. 

 

“Jensen. Jeff told me about the role he had in Supernatural. I didn’t die here. It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m alive. And you’re Jensen. Not Dean. Dean’s the guy who’s watching Jeff right now.” John’s voice rumbled deep and all the way through Jensen. 

 

Jensen lifted his right hand toward John’s face only to have it waver as his arm refused to cooperate with him. John caught his flailing fist before he could smack himself in the nose. Confused and embarrassed, Jensen attempted to talk and discovered that nothing sensible came out of his mouth. Until he realized that Jared wasn’t beside him and that his song waited off away from Jensen’s. “Jay?”

 

“I’m right here, Jensen. Just lie still.”

 

“Don’t go away. Please don’t be-“Jensen bit his lip and fell silent. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Jensen. Everything’s all right.” Jared sat on the edge of the couch once John had headed back toward the bedroom.

 

 

Dean stood in the bedroom doorway, a frown on his face.

 

“He won’t come out. Dad, he’s shaking so hard I think he’s gonna break bones.”

“Okay.” John sighed and shook his head. “I have an idea of what it might be.”

 

Jeff sat in the middle of the bed, waiting nervously for John to come back in to him. The minute he saw the familiar face, he headed straight for John’s embrace.

 

“Jeff? Jensen and Jared’re here. You know you want to see ‘em, right?”

 

“I- I can’t go out there.”

 

John nodded to himself and guided Jeff back to the edge of the bed. “Jeff, it’s all right.”

 

“No, it’s not. It isn’t…”

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

 

“No!” 

 

“I think I might know what’s wrong.”

 

“You’ll think I’m stupid! That I’m crazy or something!”

 

“Why? Because you’re afraid that if you go out there and Jared and Jensen are there, that I’m a hallucination, that Dean and Sam are a hallucination, and that we’ll just melt away? Am I close?”

 

Mystified, Jeff gaped at John.

 

“Am I? I’m guessing that because, if I was you and had been through everything that you’ve been through, that would be at least one of the things that I’d think.”

 

“You would?”

 

“Hell yes. Are you saying that I’m not as smart as you are?” John mocked a frown and waggled his eyebrows. Found himself with his arms full of Jeff two seconds later. “I thought not. Baby, don’t you want to see Jared and Jensen?”

 

“Are Sam and Dean still there?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“You won’t- er-”

 

“I’m holding you until you tell me otherwise. Is that all right?”

 

Jared’s attention swung back toward the bedroom door when it opened. And his heart twisted in his chest when he saw how carefully John helped Jeff - that slender and fragile being was Jeff? His Jeff with the boisterous laugh and the wicked sense of humor? - walk across the floor, how closely he sheltered him. Encouraged him with softly spoken words that made Jeff blush and smile. Their steps slowed and Jeff turned his upper body more toward John, who kissed him so gently and with such love that Jared’s eyes filled with tears. Which he promptly decided were his imagination.

 

John nodded toward Jared and Jeff looked up. Then, once toward Dean and Sam, back to Jared, and then, strangely, at himself and then John holding him close. The smile that swept across his features served only to accent the thinness of his face, but his eyes lit with the fire Jared had only seen when Jeff talked about John.

 

“Jay!” His voice sounded better than he looked. 

 

“JD!” Jared let his grin scatter the gloom ahead of his steps, and walked quietly toward Jeff. Two feet away, he stopped and urged “JD? C’mon here so I can count those ribs of yours,” He held out his hand and Jeff reached for it. “That’s it. Slow and easy.” Jeff glanced back at John, reassuring himself that the hunter was still there.

 

John held himself back, letting Jeff make his own way to his tall friend.

 

Jeff hadn’t been the only one who’d feared that all of the past week had been a dream and that he’d lose the other man to his own reality once Jared and Jensen walked into the room. When Jeff turned in Jared’s embrace and reached for him, John swallowed any signs of his relief and strode to his side. 

 

“Hey! Could someone help me up? I think I’m missing a Hallmark Moment or something!” Jensen’s voice came loud and clear, although only his arm waving to attract attention was visible. Jared’s laugh rang out. 

 

“Stay flat. Hyperventilator-Boy. Bet you didn’t know John had that affect on people, did you?” He asked Jeff the question and grinned.

 

“Can’t say as I did,” Jeff managed. John chuckled and kissed Jeff’s temple. Dean and Sam gaped at each other and rolled their eyes.

 

 

Jensen peered up at Jeff and bit back his first reaction, which would have sounded something like “Oh my god”. Instead, he grabbed the back of the couch and hauled himself into a sitting position.

 

Jeff recoiled and clung to John. After shooting Jensen a look that would have frozen molten lava, John did his best to undo the damage.

 

“Hey! Hey now! Is this the brave guy who saved our asses yesterday? Huh? Jeff, Jensen moved too fast. That’s all. He’s your friend. Remember?”

 

“Yeah! I’m your friend!” Jensen echoed softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You know that, right?”

 

“I know. I-jump, sometimes.” Jeff explained, his voice halting and his words uncertain.

 

“Are you guys really you?” 

 

“I think so,” Jared replied.

 

“No one else would want to be us, no matter what the fans think,” Jensen added wryly.

 

****

 

When Sophie Etoile was a child, dreamspelled and bursting with as yet unrealizeded art, she created, quite purposefully, an imaginary friend named Mr. Truepenny. Mr. Truepenny was the proprietor of Truepenny’s Book Emporium and Gallery. A voracious reader and imaginer _par excellence_ , Sophie populated the shelves of the Emporium with stories that she loved and with new stories by beloved authors who had not written the tales at all. Art hung on the walls and rested on cases in the Gallery, and Sophie wandered there, delighted with the changing images and statuary.

 

In time, her curiosity about the world that lay outside the shop resulted in her exploration of what became Mabon. City of her dreaming, with Mr. Truepenny, the first resident. Buildings in every shape and style populated the city as Sophie learned and grew.

 

Presently, Mabon exists outside of Sophie’s mind: indeed, she visits it quite regularly and is planning to rent a flat inside the city limits. 

 

But Sophie is of fey lineage on her mother’s mother’s side and sees no boundaries between the worlds. And between the world of the mind and the world of the internal combustion engine.

 

Most are not so gifted.

 

 

As Mr. and Mrs. William Merritt and their two children Wallace and Barbara discovered as they drove slowly down Mabon’s cobbled main street on that early Saturday afternoon. 

 

Mabon had most certainly not been on the agenda when they had left home. They had been on the highway to Newford where they had planned take in a matinee and dinner as a family outing. The Merritt’s did things as a family, and did them with great enjoyment. They had visited Newford any number of times over the preceding fifteen years, and had come to love its quirky character as well as its museums and restaurants.

 

In all the years they had driven to Newford, however, they had never seen anything like the streets and buildings they stared at as their sedan bumped over uneven cobbles. Stores and homes coexisted along the street: most seemed to have been built in the early part of the 20th century, although some, including the Book Emporium, could have been built in the 19th century as easily. Marge Merritt thought she spotted a row of turn of the century homes off down a side street. Barbara was certain that a sign that pointed to a mall had been painted on the side of the meat market. Wallace didn’t look up from his i-pod. And Mr. Merritt kept his eyes trained straight forward, trying to keep his car from slamming into the spaces between cobbles and pulling the front end out of line.

 

“Mom, there’s a book store!” exclaimed Barbara. All her life, she had found bookstores to be oases of peace and calm amid the bustle of the every day. She didn’t understand what had made her parents so tense and quiet as they traveled down what was obviously an Old Town, a recreation of part of Newford. Barbara didn’t remember exactly when they had switched from asphalt to cobblestones. And she hadn’t seen any road signs that might have told her where they were. Until she noticed the word Book and, like a sailor near home port, reached out to the little building as the haven it was.

 

“Mom, can we go in?”

 

“In? Where did you want to go?”

 

‘The bookstore. Right over there – the Book Emporium. That’s an old time word for store, right? There’s a parking spot right down the street from it. C’mon, let’s go in! We’ve been in the car for hours! Dad, what about it?”

 

Mr. Merritt had been growing increasingly concerned all afternoon. Not only had he and the family missed the matinee, it seemed to him that he had, somehow, been lost by the road that led to Newford. 

 

While the little city in which they found themselves seemed pleasant, it wasn’t where they had planned to go. And it didn’t exist on his GPS. Part of him didn’t want to leave the car because, while they were inside its shell, they could still be on their way to Newford to a matinee and dinner. Once they stepped outside, they would be lost. He could feel it, knew it right into his bones.

 

No, his mind amended. Not lost.

 

Misplaced.

 

On cobbled stone streets and in front of Mr. Truepenny’s Book Emporium and Gallery. In a city that didn’t exist in the GPS. Mr. Merritt didn’t hear the back passenger side door opening until Barbara called “We’re going to go in and see what Mr. Truepenny has for sale.” Wallace slid across the seat after her and followed her into the Emporium.

 

“Barbara, come back here!” To his horror, Mr. Merritt watched a very determined Mrs. Merritt open her car door and step outside. “Marge!”

 

“Honey, I’m just going to go and get the kids. Stay here.”

 

He almost did. He almost stayed in the car, where he thought he’d be safe. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not when his children and his wife might be going into danger.

 

Mr. Merritt was an organized and orderly man, and he left the car with his wallet, cell and credit cards tucked into his inside jacket pocket.

 

Which turned out to be a good thing.

 

At the door of Mr. Truepenny’s, Mr. Merritt glanced back to ensure that he’d parked the car in a legal parking slot.

 

And watched, helpless, as the car disappeared. Misted away as if it had never been there in the first place.

 

****

 

Nancy Creek knew that there were people who believed without question that she and her sisters communicated telepathically. Perhaps, after a fashion, they did. But the communication was more of an awareness that one or more of the sisters planned to visit or converse using more conventional methods. Or, more precisely, using methods that were more or less conventional. 

 

Something had been bothering her all morning, a little warning voice. When the phone rang, she picked it up and waited for Zuelema to speak. 

 

“I have Sophie Etoile here, Nancy.” Zuelema’s voice was strained. “Something’s happened in Mabon.”

 

Quickly, Nancy reacquainted herself with what she knew about Mabon. “What’s happened, Ze?”

 

“A family drove into town. There’s no way to get them out.” Ze believed in relaying as much information in as few words as possible. 

 

Nancy’s eyes closed and she shook her head before she replied. “I’m contacting Bobby Singer. We need his expertise. I can’t read this one alone.”

 

“Exactly what I thought. Do you want me back home?”

 

“Wait until I talk to Bobby. “

 

“Call when you know.”

 

“Ze, be careful. And have Sophie be careful as well.” 

 

For ten minutes after she hung up the phone, Nancy sat sipping coffee. Thinking. Then, having made up her mind, she opened the cel and punched in a number.

 

****

 

Jared heard nearly silent footsteps somewhere behind him and opened his eyes halfway. Squinted to focus and then opened his eyes the rest of the way. Breckenridge. The Winchesters. Jeff. Jensen. Pink cars and elk with the faces of men. Jensen on the couch. Then – a gap. And him waking up in a queen sized bed. In the great room. With Jensen soundly asleep next to him and his arms wrapped around Jensen’s body. Puzzled – how the heck did they get into bed? They were eating – he remembered that. Something. But how did – hell, when did they make it to bed?

 

He turned his head and glanced up at Sam, who nodded good morning. “You awake for the day?”

 

“Dunno.”

 

“You both fell asleep over the beef stew. Dad’s still laughin’.”

 

“Bastard. Coffee?”

 

“Yup. Get a shower in our bathroom and c’mon outside so the rest of the sleeping beauties can work on their knitting.”

 

“Gotta love those raveled sleeves of care.”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Oh crap, did we just make a nerd joke?”

 

“OH yeah.”

 

They grinned at each other and Jared climbed carefully out from half under Jensen. “Jay? ‘Saright?” Jensen’s voice was as sleep rumpled as he looked.

 

“Go back to sleep, Jensen,” Jared murmured. 

 

“Ohjflimf” came the eloquent reply as Jensen buried his face in Jared’s pillow, snuggled close and lost consciousness again.

 

In Sam and Dean’s bedroom, Dean’s form lumped the blankets of their bed, and two or three spikes of hair peeked out from under the navy blue comforter. A snore and a cough, a slight twitch and Dean burrowed in deeper. 

 

“Don’singinthshowr,” he called, startling Jared considerably. Then, laugh-snoring, he plummeted back to sleep.

 

Jared had finished his shower before he realized that only half of the king sized bed Sam and Dean shared showed signs of occupancy. The side closest to the door hadn’t a rumple in it; even the pillow was still neatly under the folded spread. The other half of the bed looked like a bomb had gone off and rearranged the sheets and blankets. Jared arched one eyebrow and thought back to some of the little things Sam and Dean had said and done the day before. Smiling, he grabbed a mug from an open faced cupboard and poured coffee from the pot on the stove. On his way out, he paused and glanced at Jensen wrapped comfortably around Jared’s pillow before he opened the door and stepped into the cool morning air. Jared inhaled deeply and looked around. Wide-eyed, he stared at Sam, who simply nodded his understanding. 

 

Wind sifted through pine tree needles, the sound it made a softer version of the roaring that came with a storm, and around the branches of leafy bushes. From far away came the sound of a chain saw.

 

But nearer and reaching up into the atmosphere, dressing itself in late snow on the mountains, cascading down from grassy ski trails, spun and spiraled silence. And a cool surface of something that provided distance from what had happened during the hours between Jeff’s first phone call the clear light of morning. Jared hauled in enough air to refresh every molecule of himself. Exhaled and inhaled again. Could have sworn he felt the precise instant when he dropped into sync with the world around him.

 

Pictures of the mountains are just that – pictures of the mountains. They’re like pictures of the Grand Canyon, pictures of something that can’t be understood in pictures, Sam thought.

 

The massiveness of the giants across the valley dwarfed his ability to describe them. And, abruptly, he realized that he didn’t need to talk. Jared already knew: Sam could see that just from the expression on the actor’s face. And, if he hadn’t known, there would have been no way that Sam could have explained it. For that moment, he experienced perfect peace watching the flanks of the mountains begin to pick up color for the day as silent, tentative fingers of light washed in color. He hauled in two deep breaths of air and let them percolate back out slowly.

 

They watched the silence for some time longer, sipping the rapidly cooling coffee and not speaking. Until Sam realized that at least half an hour had passed. He nodded toward the house, and Jared slid off the truck. 

 

Yawning cavernously, Jensen finished folding the queen sized bed into the sofa for the day. He’d grabbed a shower, waking up Dean in the process. Still too groggy to speak intelligibly, Dean gulped down coffee and tried to pull himself somewhere near awake and alert. 

 

The four men heard John and Jeff’s bedroom door open and turned their heads toward the sound. There, all by himself, looking about twelve years old in John’s softest flannel shirt and a pair of Dean’s old jeans, stood Jeff. He clung to the door frame tightly enough to dent the wood, but he stood there on his own.

 

“Good morning, JD.” Jared called quietly. “D’you want some coffee?” He saw the look in Jeff’s eyes and resisted the overwhelming urge to nod his head and, therefore, encourage Jeff to nod his head as well. _C’mon, you can do this. It’s just us. Try_

 

“Cream n’ sugar.”

 

“You’ve got it.” 

 

Jeff felt his body chilling and started to shiver: he knew that John stood no more than ten feet away from him, but he needed the hunter to be closer. He was alone in the doorway. Too cold. Alone. John!

 

“I’m here, baby boy. It’s all right. You did great!”

 

“Not great. I didn’t do great.”

 

“You did! C’mon. Let’s grab some coffee and head to town for breakfast.”

 

“All?”

 

“I suppose we have to have the kids around,” John sighed, his expression pathetic and resigned at the same time. “Sam, bring your laptop. I want to see whether those rockslides made the news. And we need to see what’s going on outside of here.”

 

“Going?” Jeff whispered. “You’re going?”

 

“Not without you,” John reassured him. “and if you don’t want to go, then I’ll stay with you. What? Jeff?”

 

“Where you go, I go.” Jeff rested his forehead against John’s and repeated the words. “Where you go, I go.”

 

“You’re sure, baby boy?”

 

“Sure. I’m hungry.”

 

“Nothing like changing the topic,” John laughed. “Okay. We’re going ahead. Meet us down at Sunshine Donuts. “

 

Jensen smiled up at Jared when he opened the car door for him. “I’m not helpless, Jay.”

 

“Uh huh. In!”

 

“I’m not. I was just tired yesterday.” Jensen had carefully avoided thinking about anything to do with the previous day. Even using the word “yesterday” in a sentence brought back too much, and his smile faltered. Immediately, Jared reached out for him and took his hand. 

 

“Scoot over. It’s all right, Jensen.”

 

“I honest to God don’t think it is, Jay. No, not _this_ ”-he stared down at their entwined fingers and blushed. “Everything else. I don’t think anything is all right. Because I do remember yesterday.”

 

In the front seat, Sam frowned as he looked out the window and watched the morning slide by. Dean’s hand on his brought him back to the moment, but he still wore that worried look that Dean knew all too well. “We’ll boot up the minute we have a table.” Dean muttered. “Stop looking like the world’s ending, willya?”

 

“I love you.” Sam whispered back, ignoring the occupants of the Impala’s back seat. 

 

Dean rolled his eyes, but the reaction was only for effect. “Back acha.”

 

 

“John?”

 

“Uh huh?”

 

“We..needtotalk…all of us about yesterdayand …the guys who kidnapped me and coyote and”

 

“Take a deep breath. Slow down. One word at a time. Okay?” 

 

Suddenly, Jeff shrank back in his chair and leaned toward John, his eyes wide with fright. “What is it, Jeff?”

 

“Them.”

 

John knew of only one “them”: the kidnappers. Rage thundered in his ears along with the pounding of his adrenaline pumped heart and he spun to look where Jeff was staring.

 

Four middle aged women in dark hued, sensible clothing and carrying large, all purpose handbags entered the shop. Their chattering was muted and John only caught a couple of words as they swept by on their way to a back booth. Jeff’s eyes narrowed and he fisted the hand John wasn’t holding.

 

“Jeff, they aren’t the people who took you. You know that.”

 

“Dark. They’re dark,” Jeff murmured to himself and to John. In spite of himself, John tensed and looked more closely at the four ladies. “Inside.”

 

“Jeff? Do you want to go somewhere else to eat?”

 

“No. Don’t be angry, pleaseplease-I won’t say it anymore!”

 

“Baby boy, I’m not angry. I’m worried.”

 

“Dark. They’re dark.”

 

“Then we watch ‘em. Here come the boys.”

 

Sam took one look at Jeff and arched his eyebrow. “Dad?” 

 

“I saw something. Scared me. John helps,” Jeff stumbled. “Not serious. Sit down, guys.” Although he tried to sound normal, his nerves had deserted him. He knew right through himself that the four ladies represented trouble. And he wanted John out of harm’s way.

 

“I’m going to boot up. And we need to debrief what happened yesterday. Again. I don’t think anyone will fall asleep in their eggs and pancakes this morning.”

 

John, for his part, did what he could to distract Jeff. If it included tickling and saying sweet nothings into Jeff’s ear, then that he would do. Jeff smiled and turned to stare into John’s eyes. They went very quiet and John slanted his mouth over Jeff’s, eyelids dropping closed as they kissed. “Here we go again!” Dean growled. “Try to ignore ‘em Jared and Jensen. They’re worse than teen agers!” His eyes smiled more loudly than he grumbled if truth be told.

 

“Of all the disgusting perverted behavior! This is a public restaurant! I don’t need to be subjected to this! YOU, you over there! Stop that at once!”

 

Bemused, John pulled back a little and kissed the end of Jeff’s nose. Which resulted in a sneeze and a throaty laugh. And a sense of impending, outraged, overweight doom as the person who’d shouted at them pushed her chair back, gathered her ample, floor- length skirt around herself and set sail for John and Jeff’s chairs.

 

“You! I was talking to you!” the outraged woman exclaimed. “You’re disgusting! How-“

 

Sam stood up. Jared stood up. Sam frowned, arms folded across his chest. Jared frowned arms folded across his chest, hands clenched into fists. Neither man said a word. Both men looked like rattlers ready to strike.

 

For his part, John had the advantage of being well within looming distance. And loom he did, slowly coming to his feet, keeping one hand on Jeff’s shoulder and watching her silently. He felt Jeff shudder and squeezed his shoulder gently. Stared at the woman, and didn’t speak. Watched her taking his measure. He already had hers.

 

Then, without a word, he turned his back on her, dismissing her, and sat down next to Jeff, clasping Jeff’s hand in his and kissing Jeff’s knuckles one at a time. In unison, Sam and Jared folded back into their seats and resumed research via the laptop. 

 

Fuming, the tight silvered curls on her head trembling in agitation, Lucinda Graciela Larch, stumped back to the table she and her friends had chosen. A quiet conversation punctuated by rather obvious finger pointing and one or two very loud references to sick perverts followed. Within five minutes, the ladies had settled themselves, determined not to be “chased out of the restaurant”. The six men at the other large table completely ignored them. 

 

“Dad, look at this.” Dean muttered as he peered over Sam’s shoulder at a newspaper article. “It’s from Newford.”

 

“Oh crap,” was all Sam said.

 

Jeff, on the way back from the men’s room and avoiding the table where the women still hunched over their tea, glanced at the screen and went white. “Jeff, don’t look at this. Dad, catch him before he goes over!”

 

Jeff felt John’s arms wrap him tight and safe, but he couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the fear that swept through him . “They…them…there…”

 

“Baby boy- who? Sam?”

 

“At least three of the guys who kidnapped Jeff. It’s hard to tell.” Sam spoke very quietly and extremely grimly. “Jensen, could you sit with Jeff for a minute while Dad takes a look?”

 

“Sure. Hey, Jeff, is that all right?”

 

“All-” Dazed, Jeff looked at Jensen as if he’d never seen him before until, somehow, Jensen’s words made it through the roaring in his mind. Through the memory of that knife and those sets of hands pulling at partly healed wounds and the laughter that tore at his ears. The snarling voice that threatened to rape him with the knife if he didn’t shut up. 

 

Jensen shot a frightened look toward Jared, who grabbed Jeff from the other side and helped Jensen sandwich the older man between the two of them. “Just breathe, Jeff. Just breathe. You’re safe. We’re all here. John’s reading as fast as he can.”

 

Evidently, stark terror translated itself into something quite different in the minds of the ladies who had ordered breakfast and tea and had spent quite a while studying from individual copies of a coffee table sized book. Pitching her voice so it would carry the few feet between the tables, Lucinda observed, “Well, it didn’t take the little whore long to find more partners. The first one is old enough to be-“ and her voice dropped to a far more personal level. When her words didn’t have the desired effect, and after tittering among themselves for two or three minutes more, the four women glanced up.

 

They were the only people in the restaurant. 

 

“Where did they go?”

 

“I’m pretty sure they went back to that hole they’re staying in.” Knowing looks passed among them again. “Lucinda, how is that burn on your fingers?”

 

“Less painful. It’s worth the pain, though. This must be stopped. It cannot be allowed to continue until something happens.”

 

“Agreed. Shall we close?”

 

“Yes. I think that I should put some salve on my fingers. I do have to admit that the burns are fairly deep.”

 

 

After paying the bill and leaving precisely eighteen percent in tips, the four soberly dressed women, Lucinda leading, exited the restaurant and wended their way back up Lincoln Avenue to the old courthouse. A small sign in front of the building announced that a “Relationship Seminar: for Members Only” was being held for the “Believers in Destiny”. 

 

Before she entered the building, Lucinda turned and looked out over the street, her small blue eyes alert. Absently, she picked at several hairs that decorated her chin. Still watching the road, she retrieved a mirror and a tweezer from her bag, plucked the hairs and dabbed more makeup on her chin. A quick application of a bright orange lipstick served to accentuate her small, tightly pursed lips as she watched several passers-by. Then, listening behind her, she pulled the door to the building open and marched inside.

 

One of the passers-by paused at the corner of Lincoln and South Ridge before crushing out a half smoked cigarette. Within two minutes, the man wearing his Earnhardt jacket pulled the coat tighter around him and made his way toward South Main Street. He didn’t shake off his man shape until he found a quiet alley. Then, trotting along in the shadows, he headed toward the cabin on Bonnie and Hal’s place.


	13. Chapter 12

Jensen Ackles was confused.

 

To put it mildly.

 

Well, except for about how he felt about one thing. He wasn’t confused about that, never had been. Blind as a bat when it came to reading Jared, maybe, but confused about how he felt? Not a chance.

 

He loved Jared Tristan Padalecki and had since the first day they’d met. Which, he had thought at the time, was patently impossible and something that happened only in bad romance novels.

 

Fortunately, he’d survived his first instinct, which was to jump Jared’s bones in Kripke’s office. Even more fortunately, he had managed to not scare Jared off by trying to push things, although he had definitely wanted to. 

 

Instead, he’d learned how to be Jared’s friend, how to trust the tall, easy-going man. Jensen knew that he could rely on Jared for anything, although he didn’t dare risk ask Jared for the thing he kept hidden inside his heart. 

 

Maybe it would be better to have Jared be a good friend. Yeah, that had been his reaction. Jared was a good friend. Jensen couldn’t ask for anything more, since Jared had a girlfriend and was obviously head over heels for her. 

 

Except that he wasn’t. Jensen could feel the change in Jared when Sandy walked into the room. He doubted that Jared himself knew what happened, but the differences were there. A change in the tone of Jay’s voice, a tiny hesitation when Sandy kissed his cheek or wrapped her arms around him at totally unexpected times. And a distance in his eyes that Jensen tried to ignore. 

 

Jensen had convinced himself that being Jay’s friend was preferable to not having Jay in his life at all. He’d moved into Jared’s house, into Jared’s guest bedroom, even though he wanted nothing so much as to move into Jared’s bed. However, Jared had pretty much seemed oblivious to anything other than really close friendship.

 

Until three days ago, when their world turned inside out and stood on its head. 

 

When that shadow had appeared behind Jared, Jensen’s mind screamed only one thing. “Protect him!” And Jensen had tried to pull Jared away from danger, no matter how furious he had been about the accusations Jared had thrown at him. Jensen realized, when Jared pulled him in close, that he’d misunderstood where Jared was coming from. 

 

Jared might act like a puppy sometimes, and might occasionally over do the sugar buzz- inducing candy, but he possessed a sharp mind and a tremendous amount of strength. Jared had taken charge at the airport and hadn’t given it up since then. Nor did he seem as if he planned to change things any time soon. Which Jensen, much to his own surprise, appreciated.

 

Everything that Jensen had seen, everyone that he’d met in the previous two days served to turn his world inside out. The Winchesters, hunting, Jeff having been in love with someone fictional who wasn’t fictional at all, shadows and spiders and the hunting network being real? The Winchesters. Bobby Singer. Jensen shook his head sharply to clear it and tuned back in to what Jared was asking him.

 

“Jensen, are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just thinkin’.”

 

“Me too.” Before he could say anything else, John tapped on the car window and signaled for the two of them to come out. “Jensen, stay here until I see what’s-“

 

“That would be no. I’m coming with you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jared tossed out the next two words casually. “How far?”

 

“As far as it goes.” And Jensen’s reply wasn’t casual at all. Jared cocked his head to one side and nodded. Jensen reached for Jared’s hand and slid across the bench seat to get out on the passenger’s side. 

 

John, Dean and Sam stood at the rise of the driveway, staring at the cabin. Not speaking. Looking for something that they would know when they saw it. That Jensen couldn’t see. He could feel it, though. Something was out of whack. Jeff had turned toward John, leaning on the hunter’s chest, eyes shut, arms locked around John’s waist. He seemed to be almost asleep, but, when his eyes opened, Jensen realized that he’d been trying to recall something. And that whatever it was hadn’t surfaced. Yet.

 

“The wards are broken,” Jared offered as an explanation.

 

“Wards. Wards are real?”

 

“Yup. Do you see the way the light bounces off something over in that corner of the wall?”

 

“Yeah. “

 

“It shouldn’t be,” Sam explained quietly. “Wards aren’t visible unless they’ve been broken.”

 

“So? Can’t you just put up a patch or something?”

 

“Yup. We can. But Jeff’s trying to explain something to dad. He doesn’t want us to touch that ward. Something about a sound from a different place. “

 

“Why does it matter?” Jensen asked tiredly. Things had become much too complicated much too quickly for him. “If the warding is broken, what harm can there be in just fixing it?”

 

“A ward is something like a power line, Jensen. We can fix it, but we need to be sure that we don’t get fried while we’re doing it. And we need to be even surer that we’re not locking something we don’t want to have locked in with us by its protection . Evil can’t pass either way through a warding. “

 

“I don’t see anything that – oh wait, it’s probably something _invisible_ , isn’t it? “

 

“Or asleep right now,” Sam agreed quietly. 

 

“I feel like I’ve walked into a nightmare,” Jensen murmured.

 

“I understand how that is,” Sam replied. 

 

“Over there! John! Over there! No break!” Jeff exclaimed. “It’s a mark.”

 

And, sure enough, over the lintel of the front door what had been a knothole in wood the day before had been overlain with a crudely drawn sigil. “Stay clear!” John snapped. Everyone froze, even Jensen, although he was becoming very, very tired of stopping and starting when people told him to. “Baby boy, what do you see?” the words gentle. 

 

“It’s circular. And there are weird shapes in it. It looks like whoever drew this got angry because the outside is all wobbly and there’s a gap in the drawing. There are smudges, too. John, is that drawn in blood?”

 

“It may be. Jeff, stay here and look the other way. You shouldn’t be seeing this.” Jeff turned and did as he had been told. Truthfully, he didn’t want to look at the ugly blotch any longer. And he was vaguely glad that John had told him not to. He was far more sharply unhappy that John had walked closer to the mark, whatever it was.

 

For his part, Jensen watched John and his sons as they examined the blotch as if they were looking at a cornered cobra that was ready to strike. “Is it supposed to be a sigil? If it is, I don’t know it.” Sam ventured a foot or two nearer the cabin, while Dean squinted and attempted to decipher the image.

 

“Oh crap – I think - Sam, stay back.” Dean eased Sam back two or three feet, only to edge slightly forward himself.

 

“We need Bobby. I think, though, that this is Glasya. Some damn fool is trying to summon Glasya.” Dean snarled the name. “No, don’t take a picture, ba-Sammy. Get Bobby on the phone. We’ll have him send a picture to us to compare it with. And he can tell us the best way to get this thing off the cabin wall. “

 

In short order, Bobby was raised on the phone, and, some time later, he e-mailed them an image of the sigil in question. “Is that what you see on the wall?” he asked Sam.

 

“Some of the markings are a little different, I think. But the majority of it is fairly legible. How the fuck do we get it off the wall, Bobby?”

 

“Ijit, it’s a drawing. It’s a botched drawing. Is it connected to anything?”

 

“Not that we can see.”

 

“Who found it?”

 

“That’s complicated.”

 

“Uh huh. Meaning Jeff.”

 

“Yeah. How much do you know?”

 

“John called me and let me know. That ain’t important now. What _is important_ is that you reward from the ground up. That sigil ain’t useful for its prime function, but it can draw trouble. Hell, it could vex Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg, and they’re the strongest, cantankerous old bats I know. Soap and water. Plain every day soap and water. Do _not_ let Jeff help you clean it. I don’t think it’d be smart if he touched anything to do with the warding or with that sigil. He’s not trained.

 

Sam, before I go, let me talk to your dad.”

 

“Yessir. And, Bobby, thanks!”

 

“Any time, son.”

 

 

John went right to the point. “Something’s happened in Newford that concerns Jeff. We’re going there as soon as possible. You heading out that way?”

 

“Nancy Creek called and asked if I could travel that way. I owe her. I’m goin’.”

 

“We may see you there. But we have a hunt here before we do anything else.”

 

“Gonna find whoever tried to call her down on you?”

 

“Yeah. More than anything because it was a botched attempt. Whoever did this’s messing around with things that shouldn’t be messed with.”

 

“Seems to be a lot of that goin’ around. John, you might want to take a look at the web. Have Sammy help you.”

 

“Bobby, I can use a computer! We started looking at stuff this morning.”

 

“OOkay – of course you can.” Bobby was still laughing when John cut the connection.

 

Sam started laughing before the echoes of Bobby’s laughing faded: John felt surrounded. One slightly melted, exploded toaster fifteen years earlier and his rep as technically challenged had been carved in rock.

 

“Sir?” Jensen asked. “What’s Newford?”

 

“It’s a city back east. In Canada.” 

 

 

“And?” Jensen saw John shake his head and smile. “And now we’re going to re-ward. Do you want to help?”

 

“No,” Jared chimed in firmly. “We don’t know anything about drawing wards.”

 

“But I can learn.”

 

“Jared’s right, Jensen. You need training – I look at you and see Dean for a split second. That’s not a good thing. Dean knows wards. Sam knows wards. They can teach you some of the basics, but not until we’re protected again.”

 

 

“I want to understand what’s going on.” 

 

“Same here,” John responded. “And I think we’d better talk, but not until –“

 

“I know. Not until the wards are up and the salt is down. And until I’ve had my nap like a good little kid. Right?”

 

 

John’s eyebrows arched and he pursed his lips. “The sooner we ward up, the sooner we can talk.”

 

 

Jensen stomped away, followed by Jared, who caught up with him and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. Despite the fact that he was furious and ready to hurt something just to spool out the tension, Jensen leaned back into Jared’s body and soaked up some warmth. The gentle touch of Jared’s lips along the line of his neck caused a shiver to snake its way down Jensen’s back. “Haven’t had a chance to maul you. And I _do_ want to maul you. Here and here and down here. Back here..want to go down on you and –“ Jared stopped talking and touching when Jensen refused to let his wandering right drop its grip on the bulge in Jensen’s jeans. 

 

 

“Later?”

 

“Fair enough. But I want this” he said as he rubbed his cock against Jensen’s ass, “to be what you ask for.”

 

Jensen blushed all the way around to the nape of his neck. Half laughing, Jared kissed the line of Jensen’s jaw and tongued behind Jensen’s ear. When Jensen turned in Jared’s embrace, he smiled a little and tilted his chin up for Jared’s kisses. 

 

“And Dad acts like Sam and I are little kids.” Dean grumbled to himself as he glanced at the two men and smiled a little.

 

 

****

 

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“I hate that sentence, Dad.” Dean informed John. 

 

“You and me both, Dean. But we haven’t done a debrief with all of us here and _awake_ (John pointedly didn’t stare directly at Jensen and Jared, but the corners of his eyes crinkled in low key mirth. Jensen glared. Jared turned red. )

 

 

They had drifted to the great room and were either seated or sprawled out on the chairs and two sofas. 

 

 

“Jensen, you have questions. Lead off.” John didn’t waste time with niceties. 

 

“Who are you, really?”

 

“John Winchester.”

 

“No, I mean – really. In real life.”

 

“Same answer. I’m John Winchester. Hunter.”

 

“How did your name and your story find its way into our producer’s head? Did you do some sort of hypnotic suggestion on him?”

 

“Jensen, there are going to be a lot of questions that I can’t answer for you because I don’t have a clue. And that’s one of ‘em.” 

 

“Well that makes me feel so much better,” Jensen snapped. “So you’re a hunter, like in the series. And Sam and Dean are hunters. There’s someone named Bobby. And you’re in the hunt for revenge on the demon that killed your wife – what?” he paused when Sam and Dean shot each other puzzled looks.

 

 

“Dad, does Jensen know something we don’t?”

 

“This is the story line for the TV program that Jensen and Jared star in.”

 

Sam exhaled a sigh of relief. “I thought for a minute-“

 

“Wait a minute. What are you talking about?” 

 

“Mary’s fine. She lives in San Diego. Has for the past twenty years.” Dean explained.

 

“You’re married?” Jeff whispered. 

 

“No, baby boy, I’m not. I divorced Mary twenty one years ago. After –.“ John’s voice failed him and he sat quietly, just stroking Jeff’s back. Sensing the pain in John’s spoken words and long silence, Jeff leaned up and kissed him, gentle, giving what strength he could to his mate.

 

 

“Sir, we don’t need to – “

 

“No, you do. This is a debriefing session and you need as much data as we can give you. The same way we need information from you.”

 

“Dad? Do you want me to explain?” Sam asked.

 

John sighed and buried his nose in Jeff’s curling hair. “If you want to, Sam.”

 

 

Jensen’s first reaction had been that he didn’t need to hear something painful and personal as whatever it was that John planned to say. His second reaction was a ditto of the first. Before he could say anything to that effect, however, Sam took up the story.

 

“It was after Lucas died.”

 

“Lucas? Who was Lucas?” 

 

“Our little brother,” Dean supplied. “He died when he was eighteen months old. Killed by a demon. For revenge. For something Mary had done.”

 

“Wait! Your Mary was a hunter?”

 

“Still is.”

 

 

Jensen sat still and stared at Sam. “She still is?”

 

“On the west coast, mostly. She doesn’t hunt as much as she did, but she’s still active, I think. Dad?”

 

 

“As of two months ago, she’s still hunting.” John grated the information in a tone of voice that warned everyone not to push too hard. “After all, the Campbells have been-“

 

“Hunting since the Mayflower,” Dean supplied, scorn leaching through his voice.

 

“Dean, cool the jets.”

 

“Sorry, Dad.”

 

 

“You said you’re hunting because of something that Mary did?” Jensen pushed the conversation back on track, carefully. “Can you talk about it?”

 

“It isn’t a state secret, Jensen.” Sam shook his head. “But it _is_ hard.” He swallowed and, very quietly, continued. “Mary was on a hunt, going after a blood eater. She didn’t have much information to go on, but it seemed to be a vampire.

 

 

“She had found a lead to a vampire nest and was following up. And she killed everything she found in the abandoned warehouse that they’d converted into a nest.”

 

“But vampires are blood suckers! They’re supposed to be eliminated. ”

 

“Depends on the clan and the leader,” Dean replied. “Same as with what you call demons. Or, as far as I can tell, what you call demons.”

 

 

Startled, Jared and Jensen stared at each other before they turned back to John. “Sir, are you all right if we keep talking about this?”

 

John glanced up, startled. He saw open concern in Jared’s eyes and smiled his thanks. “I’ll tell you if I’m not. Sammy?”

 

“She killed everything. Including an infant demon that had been taken from his mother earlier in the day.”

 

“Demons – don’t have families!”

 

‘Different places, Jensen. Try to keep that in mind.” 

 

“Yessir.” Stunned, Jensen looked up at Jared for help. So he could understand what he was hearing.

 

 

“Mary didn’t know it at the time. No, Dean, I think she didn’t know. Or she wouldn’t have done it. She would have rescued the baby and returned it to its mother. The D’th clan is old, old blood. Not even Mary would have harmed that little one.”

 

“We’re never going to agree on that, dad.”

 

“I know, son.” John sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. “Sam, I’ll take it from here.”

 

“You sure, Dad?”

 

“Yes.” John cleared his throat and started speaking. Opened his eyes and smiled at Jeff when he realized that the actor had wrapped both hands around John’s right hand. “Thank you, baby boy.”

 

“At the time, Lucas was only six months old. Mary had had a hard time with him, and he needed a lot of attention. She spent more time at home than usual taking care of him, mostly because the doctors felt he would thrive better if his mother stayed in continual contact. 

 

“By the time she went on the hunt that day, she’d only had two hunts in six months and was anxious to get back out again. I will say this. She returned the baby to its clan. And, if she could have kept her mouth shut, Lucas might be-“ John clamped control n his tongue and exhaled through his nose. “She insulted the mother. Called her out for “letting” the vampires take the infant. 

 

“Since the mother had also lost her mate in the vampire ambush, she reacted the way any grieving demon mother would. 

 

“Lucas was killed at the same age to the day the infant demon had been slaughtered. I should have suspected something, been watching more carefully. And if I’d know who the demon infant Mary had killed had been, I would have. I swear I would have!” John’s voice broke and Jeff pulled him into his embrace. “I wouldn’t have let him die!”

 

“Dad, you didn’t ‘let’ him do anything. We didn’t know. Mary told you that she’d returned the demon infant to its mother, who lived in the D’th clanlands. She said that the mother had accepted her apologies and had forgiven her.”

 

“I should have known!” John’s heartbreak still bled through his words. 

 

For a few minutes, the great room was silent except for the soft whispers of love from Jeff to John. At length, John spoke again.

 

“She told me. Holding Lucas, she told me what had really happened. And that she was sorry. Sorry. Our baby son dead in her arms, and she was sorry. I think I went mad, a little. I told her to get out. To get out and never come back. And she went. Left town. She didn’t even stay for the funeral. 

 

“We didn’t speak for almost ten years, although Mary and the boys kept in contact. It’s taken the better part of two decades for us to be able to make a phone call to each other. And even then, the only reason we talk is to relay hunting information.”

 

 

 

 

Carefully, Jared eased the conversation from hideously painful memories back onto what he hoped was a less difficult topic. “So you decided to become a hunter, to-?” and he stopped, not sure what would have brought John to hunting when it was another hunter who had been responsible for the loss of part of his family.

 

 

Sam and Dean both blinked and glanced at each other. “We’ve always been hunters, Jared. Dad, Sam, me. We’re Winchesters.”

 

 

“You can’t just “become” a hunter, Jay.” Sam explained quietly. “Our family has less lineage than the Campbells, of course. There is only one other family that is as old as they are here in North America and, for all we know, they may be extinct. But this line of the Winchesters has always been hunter-source. “

 

 

“Sam and I were too young to go into the field, so Mary and Dad had decided to settle and do local hunts until we were old enough to travel farther than a day away in order to hunt. That happens a lot, I think. There aren’t any hunter family reunions or conventions, so I don’t exactly know.”

 

Jensen felt like his world had begun turning somersaults. “But-“

 

“Guys, I’m going to ask a question. You’re probably going to think I’m insane, but what happened in the U.S. on September 11, 2001?” Jared spoke quietly, his arm tight around Jensen’s shoulder.

 

“Was it Labor Day?” Sam finally asked. “I can never figure out when that holiday is. It’s worse than Easter.

 

“From the way you three are looking at us, I’m figuring that something happened,” John ventured. “In your world.”

 

“Yeah. You might say that,” Jensen confirmed. 

 

“September 11. The day the World Trade Center was hit by two jet liners?”

 

“Where was this World Trade Center?” John asked, totally stumped.

 

“In New York City.”

 

“I don’t know if there is one in our New York City. Or that there ever was.”


	14. Chapter 13

For just a few seconds, Jensen sat dumbfounded. Then, out of nowhere, his temper snapped and he lurched to his feet.

 

 

“I’ve had it! This is some sick, stupid set up and I’m not dealing with it anymore! There is only one New York City! Only one Dean Winchester, who is, I might add, _imaginary_. There are no real hunters! This is crap! Who the hell hired you people? I hope to god that you have fucking good medical coverage! You’re going to need it! Jared, are you comin’ with me? I’m walkin’ back to Vancouver if I have to!”

 

 

“Jensen, man, this isn’t a set up.”

 

“How the fuck do you know? Huh?, Jensen wheeled and glared at Jeff. “Jeff, are you that much of a freakin’ nut job that you believe that this is John Winchester? Bull crap! I should have called the police and the funny farm for you. And me. And Jared. Because I know we’re insane. ”

 

 

He attempted to calm himself down, avoiding Jared’s hand when the taller man reached out toward him. “C’mon Jared. Jeff, you’re coming with us. You, whoever you are, if I ever see you again, I’m going to rip your fuckin’ face off! John Winchester, my ass!”

 

 

Jensen took just one step toward John, fists bunched and face a mask of fury. He made the mistake of glancing at Jeff with the same look on his face. Jeff shrank away. Into John’s space, toward safety.

 

 

A warning growl filled the space between Jensen and John. Eyes slitted nearly shut, lips pulled back from his teeth, John rose to his feet and stalked toward Jensen. He didn’t say a word. Instead, still snarling, he shouldered him back toward Jared. Still facing the threat to Jeff, John backed slowly and reached behind himself toward Jeff’s hand. His expression had already begun to soften, although, when Jensen made an effort to move, the snarling came back again.

 

 

Jeff didn’t hesitate. Standing up, he reached out one hand for John and tugged him around and wrapping him in a hug, glaring over John’s shoulder at Jensen. He shook like a leaf, although only John knew it.

 

 

“You’re an idiot, Jensen Ackles. Stay away from John. Who _is_ John Winchester.” Jeff stared up into John’s eyes and pulled John in for reassurance that looked a lot like kiss that morphed into biting along John’s jaw and his left earlobe. John felt his breath gasp out of his lungs and responded to Jeff’s insistent caresses. Jeff’s right hand fought with John’s t-shirt, bunched it and slid underneath. Stroking John’s chest, playing with his nipples, careful with the damaged one. All the while, Jeff dominated every kiss, every motion of John’s tongue, claiming his mate. Sucking John’s tongue into his own mouth and stroking it with the flat of his tongue, pulling away and raising a bruise on John’s neck, biting and sucking until it stayed deep purple.

 

 

 

 

 

“And I have to stop a Meeting? Based on your word, which no one but I can hear and understand? “

 

 

 

 

 

“I hope I heal quickly is all I can say.” 

 

 

John couldn’t hear anything other than Jeff murmuring his name and the silver blue color song standing off a little way. Jeff only heard John murmuring his name and his greengold color song standing guard over Jeff’s blue and silver, twining around it, protecting it. John luxuriated in the sensation of Jeff’s tongue insistent against his, his skin hot under John’s fingers. His body willing and open, pressing over every inch of John that he could reach. Sinking in against the hunter, their names little mewling sounds that only existed between them, closed off from everyone else. 

 

 

Jensen felt Jared wrapping his arms around him and struggled to free himself. “Jay, let me go! Oh god, what the hell’s happening?” The flickering green and gold sheltering an almost not there blue and silver curled and flowed around the two men, shielding them from prying eyes.

 

 

“Dean?”

 

“I don’t know, Sammy. What are they?” Dean stared at the complex weaving of blue and green, still discrete, gently, but inexorably maintaining their distance. Dean smelled tobacco and heard Dale before he saw him. 

 

 

“Behind you, Dean. Behind you, Sam.” He looked at the two-almost-one and frowned.

 

 

“They’re John and Jeff’s color songs.” Dale replied. “It’s not the right time for them to Meet. The songs know it, but Jeff and John don’t.”

 

“Dale. What do we do? They’re-“

 

“It’s too soon. I’m going to separate them. But I’m not going to put you at risk.

Dean, Sam. Take Jared and Jensen outside. Now.”

 

“No!” Jensen barked.

 

“Now. This is going to be risky enough for me. You don’t need to be in the way.”

 

“Who are you? Dean? Sam? What is he?”

 

“A friend. If he wants us to leave, we leave. But only as far as the other side of the door.”

 

“Dad’s growling.” Dean’s eyes went a little wider, and he nodded at Dale. “Don’t hurt them.”

 

For a moment a rueful smile graced the rugged face. “I’m more worried about them hurting me. Now, get out.”

 

 

John heard the strange voice speaking quietly through the singing of their colors. Just saying his name and Jeff’s name softly, over and over. A threatening growl built in his chest and he turned his head, seeking the source of the voice. His raging emotions had rendered him blind to anything but the sight and smell of his mate, so he cast a general warning toward the speaker. A low growl and a stiff wrinkling of lips over teeth made words redundant.

 

 

“John, you don’t want to hurt Jeff. You know that. He’s not well enough to True Meet. It’s too soon. John, I’m a friend. Jeff, I’m a friend. I mean you no harm.” _You owe me, elders._

 

 

John’s growl softened when he looked into Jeff’s eyes. From behind him he heard “When the time’s right, nothing I could say or do would stop you and Jeff. Nothing will. He’s not strong enough, John.”

 

 

The color songs faded slowly as Coyote kept up his words, watching until he was sure that John wouldn’t turn and attack him if he stepped any closer. Jeff’s arms locked around John’s waist and he felt his legs slipping out from under him. “Baby boy-oh gods, what the hell did I do?”

 

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Understand that, John. Nothing wrong. He’s your TrueMet Otherself. But it’s too soon for you to join. He could be hurt.”

 

 

Jeff clung to John, refusing to let him go. “Mine,” he whispered. “Mine.”

 

“Indeed, youngling. John, take him to rest for a while. Stay with him. Skin on skin is best.”

 

 

Dale sighed and strode to the front door and stepped out of the way of the four men who’d been leaning on the other side, trying to hear what was happening. The Coyote diplomatically avoided any embarrassing comments as Jared tumbled Jensen to the ground and Sam squashed Dean against the door frame.

 

 

Jensen and Jared grabbed one couch and Sam and Dean the other. Dean glanced over at Dale, saw his mouth had opened and jumped in with a warning before Dale could say a word.

 

 

“Don’t say it, Dale.”

 

 

“Okay, I won’t. But we do.”

 

 

Jared and Jensen stared at “Dale”, and Jensen’s temper began to soar again. “You son-of-a-bitch! Let Jeff go!”

 

 

“Jensen, why are you so angry?” Dale asked quietly.

 

 

“Because this isn’t real! Because –“Bewildered, Jensen looked at Jared. “I honest to god don’t know why I’m pissed. It was – I thought all of a sudden that – what the hell?”

 

 

Dale nodded and commandeered a stool to sit on. 

 

 

“I’m no tale singer. There are others who do it well, so I’m giving you the shortened version. Sam and Dean – if you could, er-“

 

 

Sam looked up slowly and focused on Dale. He’d ended up in Dean’s lap and had decided to spend his time wisely, claiming every inch of Dean with his lips, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Dean’s arms tightened around Sam and he glared at Coyote. “Er-the shortened version.”

 

 

“All of you are keepers of color songs. Or, rather, you are whom the color songs have chosen. That’s better. John’s is most senior and has been before long and long and long again. Jared’s is almost as old. Dean’s is near Jared’s age. Sam’s is almost John’s age. Jensen’s is the very youngest. But Jeff’s is almost as young.”

 

 

‘How young is young?”

 

“Less old than oldest. Generally, color songs do not meet in large numbers: they come only to those who they think are acceptable. I’m not clear on all the lore, but this many senior color songs in one place is something that hasn’t happened in a very, very long time. Even the Crow Girls aren’t sure how long. ”

 

 

For some reason, the fact that the Crow Girls didn’t know how long it had been bothered the Coyote more than anything else. Scatterbrained the girls might seem, but they weren’t. It’s just that their focus tended to be long and long or far too deep for most that saw them. Well, most of the time. When they weren’t a little scatterbrained.

 

 

“But I didn’t know I had one. I still don’t know that,” Jared protested.

 

 

“You do, Jay. And it’s beautiful,” Jensen murmured. “So beautiful.” He tilted Jared’s chin up and kissed him again. “Like water on rocks and the ocean at Big Sur. Roaring and singing. Like I think you would make love.” Jared moaned softly and cupped Jensen’s cheek. 

 

 

‘Jensen, when did you see it? How do you know?” Dale asked. The emotional currents and eddies rampant in the great room could be negotiated. But great care was necessary. Dale wanted to leave the men to their relationships. But there were things he needed to say, to warn them. 

 

 

“I was sleepin’, remember? On the couch.”

 

 

“When we couldn’t wake you up.”

 

 

Jensen nodded. For a heartbeat, he closed his eyes, thinking and, finally, smiling a little. “I met my color song then. And I saw John’s, and Jeff’s. John’s helped mine, supported it. Held me, too. Then I heard and saw you, Jay. And I started to laugh because yours sings laughter.” Murmuring, Jensen drifted off a little into himself. Only Jared’s kiss brought him back.

 

 

“Ah-yeah. Listen to me if you can. This is important. I know you’re planning to hunt whatever tried to call the dark that I refuse to give a name down on you. Be aware, even more than you already are. John and Jeff have started something with what they did. You’re feeling it. And it’ll distract you if you don’t keep on top of it. Keep your dicks in your pants when you’re hunting. And keep your downstairs brain caged up.

 

 

“Especially because you may be hunting humans.” Dale’s eyes went cold. “I followed some to one of the buildings in town. There were four women. There were at least ten more couples in the building. One of the four women had a burn on two of her fingers, a bad burn. One that might have come as a result of slithering under your warding and drawing that sigil you removed.

 

 

“I’ve watched them for two days, those people in their little meeting. They call themselves something Believers in Destiny. Something about finding your destiny and making sure it isn’t destroyed. Protecting it by any means necessary.”

 

 

“But why the heck would they want to do anything to us? I never saw one of ‘em before today,” Jay asked.

 

“That I don’t know. I do know, however, that at least one of them dabbles in the dark arts.”

 

 

“The one with the orange lipstick,” Sam muttered. He remembered the feeling of loathing that had crept up his spine when she had neared Jeff and John.

 

 

“The one with the burned fingers.”

 

 

“How did you hear about her?”

 

 

“An old friend and I got together over a cigarette one day. She was still pretty shaken up about what a fellow worker had told her. Turns out the fellow worker had been bragging about summoning the dark forces to a field of battle and defeating them with the help of her friends. 

 

 

 

 

“I did some checking. And the woman with the orange lipstick and the small blue eyes was the person I ended up watching. Be careful of her.”

 

 

“She’s a human. We don’t hunt humans!”

 

“She’s dangerous. And remember that you aren’t where you were a week ago. The rules are changing.”

 

“She’s human.”

 

“Therefore, she’s dangerous. She thinks she can control what she summons. She can’t. It’s been luck that’s kept her from doing mortal harm so far.”

 

“But why is she doing this? If she’s doing it?”

 

 

“I don’t know. Humans can be hard for me to read at times. Once you can discover if she’s attempting magic, then you might learn how and why she’s doing it. The why is the important part. Learn the why, and we learn how to block her.”

 

 

“Dale?”

 

“What, Dean?”

 

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

 

“Yup. I’ll probably see you in Newford. Just remember to stick together and, for the love of each other, stay with the Impala.”

 

“What?”

 

“And the truck.”

 

 

And he was gone again. Just like that.

 

 

****

 

For a couple of minutes, the four men either gaped at the spot where Coyote had been or gaped at each other. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and tugged him closer to his body. Jared and Jensen stared at each other and tried to understand what was happening. “Jay?”

 

 

“I need a shower. _We_ need a shower, now!” Jared took Jensen by the hand and led him off to Sam and Dean’s bathroom. There wasn’t one other private place in the house, and he wanted to have Jensen to himself. 

 

 

Once he’d locked the bathroom door behind himself, Jared turned to Jensen and smiled mischievously. Wide eyed, Jensen watched as Jared slowly divested himself of his shirts, and then eased Jensen’s off as well. Hand shaking, the tall actor ghosted his fingertips across Jensen’s pecs and abs, then, slowly and warmly, up his sides and across his back. 

 

 

Jensen mirrored Jared’s actions, reveling in the feel of Jared’s skin under his palms, of the tickle of Jared’s chest hair and the tiny nubs of his nipples. Tentative, he ducked his head forward and kissed the hollow of Jared’s neck, licked where he’d kissed, and traced a stripe up Jared’s neck to his chin. For just a moment, they lost themselves in each other’s gaze. 

 

 

Then, a faint smile on his lips, Jared framed Jensen’s face between his palms and kissed him. The deep, sensual, “I’ve loved you forever and now I get to show you” kiss he’d waited so long to share with Jensen. 

 

 

“Jay?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Aren’t we supposed to talk about –unnghhh-this?”

 

“This?” One delicate nibble on the edge of Jensen’s jaw. “Or this?” An even gentler nip to Jensen’s earlobe. Followed by his tongue delicately tracing the shell of Jensen’s ear.

 

“Jay?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“We’ve talked enough, right?” 

 

“You always were the gabby one.” Jared caught Jensen’s next words in his mouth. 

 

Jensen’s tongue should have been insured against injury or loss. He traced the line of Jared’s left collarbone with the tip of it, rolling the flat of it over the thin, sensitive skin there and leaving a wide trail of warmth before the initial sensation had completely faded.

 

 

Jared choked on a laugh. And then the tip of Jensen’s cock brushed his own erection, and things like color songs and people with orange lips faded into obscurity.

 

 

“Jensen?”

 

 

“Hmmm?” The weight of Jensen’s cock as it filled and stiffened became the center of his concentration. Tentatively, because he could almost feel Jared’s fingers around his shaft, he pushed down, feeling the jolt when his cock dipped under the pressure and twitched when he released it. 

 

 

He dropped back into his own thoughts and against the wall behind him, keenly aware of Jared standing in front of him, watching as his fingertips caressed himself from tip to root, the actions feather light.

 

 

Jared became part of his fantasy as he always did. Jensen had learned a long, lonely time ago that he had the ability to enter his thoughts even as he created them. And he became himself being fondled and stroked by Jared as well as being Jared whose fingers touched him.

 

 

Barely breathing lest he shatter the moment, Jared mirrored Jensen’s actions. Trying to understand what Jensen found so – oh! That’s it! – erotic. Startled, Jared watched himself as his nipples stiffened. Stroking his erection the same way Jensen was stroking his own, then brushing the very tips of the fingers of his free hand down from his navel to his groin, the back of his hand catching his nipples on its way up to his neck. Then a long quiet sweep back down to his belly, just barely raising the hair there on his way. A stray movement of his little finger set off shuddering across his skin, and his cock throbbed in response. He bit his lower lip rather than moan, because Jensen had the monopoly on that sound. 

 

 

Tiny little back of the throat whimpers echoed in Jensen’s ears. He heard the sound of Jared’s breathing, but he couldn’t speak, didn’t want to. Didn’t know if he could say out loud what he thought to himself. ‘Do you want to watch me come like this, Jared? Come for you without even jerking off? My cock hurts it needs to come so much. My balls ache. You can make me come by walking by. You have. There’s fire between my legs and then I’m hard and I shoot into my clothes at the sight of you.” 

 

 

He swallowed spasmodically and licked his lips, still deep in his thoughts. He never noticed when he started speaking aloud. “I’m going to come and I want you to watch. I want you so much, so much” He’d forgot where he was and what he was doing other than feeling every millimeter of his erection begin to heat and flush. His balls tightened and pulled up and he fell back against the wall, hands pressed flat, cock on fire. “Jar-” he whimpered, head thrashing from side to side, knees trembling.

 

 

And then Jared was there. Jensen felt Jared’s mouth close over his aching sex and let go. Everything. Hard enough to choke anyone. Jared pulled Jensen deep into his throat, swallowing everything Jensen gave. Jared’s hand on his own cock plus the feel of Jensen coming in his mouth, wrenched Jared’s orgasm from him and he came onto the floor of the shower. Jensen tried to pull back, but Jared wasn’t having any of that until Jensen’s cock softened and he started to slide down the wall.

 

 

“Jen-Jensen?” Jared panted. 

 

‘I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean for you to – I” Jensen hushed when Jared covered his lips in a deep, gentle kiss that tasted of Jensen and smelled of the two of them. Jensen gave up the fight and collapsed into Jared’s embrace, cold water shower and travertine floors or not.

 

 

 

 

Dean scratched the back of his head and casually blocked Sam’s access to the bathroom. “Not just yet, bro. Let’s let the kids-er-uhm-yeah, clean up a little. Maybe. Uh-yeah, that’s it.”

 

 

Sam’s brows sloped inward as he digested Dean’s words. “Oh shit! Are you telling me-are they going to need to sleep or cuddle or something?”

 

 

“Dude, you’re asking me? I’ve been in love with you for our whole lives, and I _still_ can’t figure out when you want to cuddle or something. Hey! Watch my head!”

 

 

Then, out of nowhere, something sang, loud and clear so that both Sam and Dean went into defensive postures and a still very naked Jared pushed Jensen behind him to protect him from whatever it was. “If the Good Witch of the North shows up, I’m blowing her apart,” Dean snarled. 

 

 

“Uh-I think someone turned on the CD player? The one in Dad and Jeff’s room?” Sam replied. “It sounds like Enya.”

 

 

“That’s it. We’re going hunting. Now. Jared? Jensen? I don’t care if you can’t stand up straight; get your asses out here! _We_ are going hunting. End of discussion!”


	15. Chapter 15

  
Author's notes: I hope this works.  


* * *

Chapter 14 

“John? John! Wake up! John!”

“Huh? What’s wrong, baby?” 

 

Jeff tugged John by the sleeve, frantic to get him moving. “John, please-we have to go to town. Now!”

“Wha’?”

“NOW! Please!”

“Okay, okay - let me get my boots on.”

 

John grinned as Jeff tucked in his shirt. Then, aware that his torso was about as naked as Jeff’s had been, he buttoned his shirt and looked blearily for his boots and jacket. What had happened earlier had drained both of them, John less than Jeff, but only a marginally.

 

All Jeff would say over and over was ““We have to go.” The minute John had both boots on, Jeff turned and headed for the truck, leaving John scrambling to catch up.

 

“Where are the boys? Hang on – put on your jacket!” John tossed Jeff his jacket and skidded across the yard after him.

 

“In town. We have to-“Jeff grabbed the door of the truck and clambered into the passenger’s seat, using the steering wheel as an anchor. About to haul the door closed, he stopped when John barked “Seat belt!” John checked Jeff’s belt and, after a long look at him, slammed the door. Ten seconds later, the hunter hit the ignition, settled into his own seat and added “Hang on.”

 

Jeff nodded and shut his eyes, focusing on something John was afraid to imagine or ask about. Truckzilla slewed down the driveway and onto the main road to town. As they accelerated, John glanced across the truck toward Jeff, who had opened his eyes and was staring straight ahead and up. Following Jeff’s line of sight, John squinted and almost drove off the road.

 

Grey black smoke billowed into the air over Breckenridge. “Jeff, call Dean and Sam. Here. Speed dial one. Push the button, baby. That’s it.”

 

“Dad? Dad, is that you?” Dean’s voice came through static and a lot of background noise.

 

“No. Jeff. Are you okay?”

 

“We’re all right – but I don’t know how. You on your way to town?”

 

“Almost there. I see you and Sam-oh my God – John, stop here. Don’t try to get closer. Where are Jared and – there. I see them.” 

 

Jeff stared, stunned, at the maelstrom of neck craning locals and tourists, fire engines, and ambulances that littered most of South Main and crept up Lincoln Avenue. Grim faced volunteer firemen trudged around heaps of bricks and the straggling nests of the roots of overturned and broken trees. John had him wrapped tight in his embrace before five seconds had passed.

 

“Baby boy, sit still. They’re coming over to us. ” Dazed, John stared up Lincoln Avenue at smoky and burning destruction. Not even the sight of his soot covered and singed sons distracted his stare: Dean and Sam were ambulatory, which meant they might be angry, but they were also all right.

 

Where the stately Old Summit County Court House building had stood, a heap of blistering hot brick and smoking rubble remained. A bizarre reminder of what had been obliterated, the double front door and its oak frame had escaped intact, as had the flight of concrete steps leading up to the door. Two or three blades of glass clung to the left side of the door and a large hunk of glass tumbled out of the ruined transom. But the remainder of the building had been destroyed and had fallen into its basement as well on the burned and blackened grass and gnarled, tortured limbs of the old trees, now stripped crudely of their leaves by fiery fingers that left only charred skeletons in their wake. 

 

The force of an explosion needed to take out a building the size of the Court House could have easily rocked other buildings nearby. Yet the damage to the White Rose seemed to be minor, and all the mailboxes on the street still rested on their posts. Whoever had set the explosive had known what to set and where to put it. 

 

Dean strode over to the truck. Other than some bruises on his face, a gash down his left forearm and and a really nasty looking bump on the left clavicle, he seemed to be pretty functional. His eyes, narrowed in speculation, said something else again.

 

Dean hadn’t been taken with Jeff’s arrival in their lives. As a rule John's eldest didn’t like anything that smelled even remotely like magic. Magic was too slippery, too unpredictable. People who dealt with it, with the exception of Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax, of course, bore reputations for being twice as slippery as the craft they practiced. Maybe it was that whole “practice” thing. A person should be a master of his weapons. Practicing as a verb didn’t inspire confidence, in Dean’s firm opinion.

 

He hadn’t really believed what John had told him about Jeff facing down something that Dean had never even heard of, much less seen. Something that was afraid of a bush. Granted, the bush was rowan. But afraid of it? And of the Impala: well, that at least made _sense_. 

 

Much as Dean complained about the way Jeff, Jared, and Jensen made the car sound like it was some kind of steel god, he was secretly pleased that they recognized a good thing when they saw it.

 

Until about ninety minutes earlier, it would have been safe to say that Dean Winchester’s vote about Jeff was pending, waiting for something to resolve the question. In fine fashion, Something appeared and helped settle matters.

 

“Dean, what the hell happened?”

“Just a minute, Dad, and I’ll tell you. Jeff, can I talk to you ?”

 

Jeff nodded shyly and shot a frightened look toward John. The older hunter’s eyes had narrowed, and he shifted closer to Jeff. “Dad, I’m not gonna hurt him. Back down, okay? Christ – you’d think – oh hell, never mind. Jeff, I want to say thank you. Whatever it was that you did, it worked.”

 

“I didn’t do anything!”

 

“Well, if that wasn’t you shouting, I don’t know who it was,” Sam chimed in. 

 

“Shouting? When?” John glanced first at Jeff and then at his sons.

 

“Maybe thirty minutes ago. I quote ‘Don’t you dare collapse. Don’t you dare hurt Sam and Dean. No!’ You agree, Sammy?”

 

“Yup. I think there were a couple of damns in there, too, but I might be wrong.” Sam rubbed his eyes with the heel of one palm. “Jeff, I don’t know what you did, but you held those walls up long enough for us to get out.“

 

“Dad, we should be dead. Sam and I should be dead.” Dean murmured the words: he was rattled more than he wanted to admit. “I don’t understand what happened. We should be dead.” He glanced up at Sam, who had managed to escape major injury and had only been scraped and bruised a bit. “Jeff, thank you for saving Sam – and me.”

 

“Jeff? What did you do?” John asked. “Do you remember?” He felt Jeff’s shuddering.

 

Finally, Jeff blurted out,“I was sleeping! I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t!”

 

“What didn’t you do?” Dean asked, careful not to spook Jeff any more than he already was. “Jeff, do you think you _started_ the explosion?” 

 

Jeff’s flushed cheeks told the hunter he’d guessed right. “No, man. You didn’t. Those whack jobs had the place loaded with dynamite. Dynamite! This is the freakin’ 21st century!”

 

“Dean, I have a feeling that more efficient explosives might have been a problem. How the hell did you and Sam end up where you ended up?” John’s relief over Sam and Dean’s safety softened the tone of his question. Slightly.

 

“It should be a long story, but it isn’t. We told Jared and Jensen to stay in the car. They did. Two of those four females who invaded the donut shop jumped ‘em. “

 

“Uh, they didn’t jump us,” Jared contradicted. “They aimed guns at us. And they were shakin’ too hard for us to take the risk that they were faking.”

 

“Go on.” John knew better than to harass an inexperienced witness. The fact that Jeff had gone completely silent except for an occasional hiccup served to distract him as well.

 

“They were about as quiet as a cow with its udder caught in a wringer washer. Dean saw us being “encouraged” to walk into the County Offices. It wasn’t like they were being subtle. He and Sam fought those broads – er- women – off long enough for us to get away without hurting them. When we looked back to see if Sam and Dean were coming, I saw the one with the orange lipstick shoving a rifle –“

 

“Shotgun” Dean amended. 

 

“Shotgun into Dean’s ribs. There’re a couple of guys in the group-”

 

“Coven.” Sam corrected. “They called it a coven.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and glared at his brother.

 

“Coven, then. We’re not real hunters. But we are in decent physical shape so we shook ‘em. Then we circled back around to see what we could do to get Sam and Dean out. We never made it to the building.” Jared’s voice faltered and he blinked, reassuring himself that Sam and Dean had both survived.

 

“There was an explosion. There…no, there were three one right after the other. Ten seconds after the third one, Sam and Dean charged out of the building. It collapsed right behind them. “

 

“So the idiots blew the building up right on themselves? What the hell were they doing?”

 

Dean looked at his dad and shook his head. “No.” He glanced up at Sam, who continued, voice as shaky as Dean’s. “They disappeared. Right before the first charge went off, they disappeared. And they knew they were going to. There wasn’t a bit of fear or hesitation. They just weren’t there. And then the courthouse blew up.”

 

“I still don’t understand how Jeff helped you escape. Once a building blows up there’s not a lot someone can do to stop it.” John tipped Jeff’s chin up and murmured, “Can you tell me anything about what happened, baby boy?” 

 

Jeff’s eyes went wider, if that was possible, and he shook his head. “It’s okay – we’ll figure this out. You’re okay.”

 

“I told you what we heard. But it wasn’t like time stood still or something. The walls just stopped what they were doing. There was a kind of roar under the basement and the walls stopped. Like some sort of mother wall had shouted at them for being bad? Something like that? Dean grabbed me and we got the hell out of there.” Sam looked back to Dean to continue the story.

 

Dean’s brow wrinkled . “We ran straight out the front door. Someone should have seen us. And I’d swear that not one person actually did. Sam, what’d you think?” 

 

“Same as you. I don’t get it.”

 

Jared and Jensen turned deer in the headlights eyes toward John. 

“We do.” Jensen said. “Same thing that happened to us at the airport in Vancouver. Remember, Jared? We told you guys about it, too, on the way up mountain.”

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to.” Jared smiled.

 

“Not _that_! Before! When everyone just went around acting like there wasn’t a giant spider and another shadow on the walls and like the two of us weren’t acting like scared little old ladies – well, Jared was, anyway.”

 

“You, if I remember right, fainted.” Jared’s eyes narrowed and he smiled grimly. Jensen, for his part, blushed bright tomato and then did what he could to repair his injured dignity. 

 

“I pretended to faint. To throw whatever they were off guard.”

 

“Uh hummm. Did it work?”

 

“Well, I didn’t ask the spider shadow; and the other one got eaten. The other thing my _controlled loss of consciousness_ did was to bring us back into the airport. I could hear people again, so could you. It was like we’d been watching from the outside for a few minutes and then got pitched back into the concourse. People could see us. Then everything else happened, and we almost forgot about it.”

 

John watched as Jared neared Jeff and, carefully, extended a hand toward him to stroke his hair off his forehead. “You did great, JD. Really great.”

 

John’s tension escalated the closer Jared moved toward Jeff. And Jeff picked up on it. Shot John a quick, questioning glance.

 

“You saved Sam and Dean, Jeff. Just the same as you saved us the other day. I know you don’t believe it yet, but you did. “ Jeff nodded shakily and relaxed against John again. Saving people, he thought dizzily, was tiring work.

 

“Dad, we need to do a complete debrief and figure out where we’re heading next. I don’t like the idea of anyone just disappearing. And the looks on their faces- smug assholes – they knew what they were doing. And that means they knew where they were going.”

 

“I know. If they all left together, we can risk the cabin for one more night. But we need to head to Newford as quick as we can. I don’t know why, but I think that’s where they’re going.”

 

“That’s a veryvery good idea. “

 

“Yes, very very good. Can you gonow? We can take you. “

 

“Or you can take yourselves. But it is very wise to go.”

 

Jared looked over his shoulder and just stared. “You!”


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

Six pairs of tired eyes, six wearily bent spines and numerous yawnings and grumblings. The coffee table covered with carefully separated piles of paper, pages temporarily removed from John’s journal, other pages set side to side in a rough chronology, still other pages under a pile of scribbled notes that was much smaller than its opening volume. 

 

Partially full coffee cups and the remains of sandwiches and apple cores, the bone from the steak Jeff had eaten, and cookies (Oreos, the first food group). The smell of tired humans and the echoes of their words. Dawn only an hour off, and the work not done yet. They were running low on time, but there was no way John was going to move until he had written out as much as they could either find on a quick net search or remember. 

 

Sam and Jared had gone to town, quietly, around three a.m. to just take a look at things. At the corner of Washington and South Main, they stopped and parked John’s truck. A glance between the two of them, and they stepped out into the early morning air. Sam shut his eyes and inhaled deeply; after a moment, he exhaled and opened his eyes to look around himself, curious. 

 

Something basic had changed.

 

For the first time since he had arrived in town, the subtle undercurrent of tension caused first by the kidnappers and then by the presence of orange lipstick lady and her gaggle of geese, had faded. 

 

After a quick walk around, and a stop at the still smoldering ruins of the Court House, they returned to the cabin, Jared behind the wheel. 

 

Sam and Dean had spoken briefly about Jared and Jensen and decided that, if the actors planned to stay with Jeff, John and them, they’d need training. Letting Jared drive and do the perimeter walk had been part of that: so was allowing Jared to help reinforce the salt and check the wards. His eye untrained, Jared couldn’t spot the symbols of the existing protection. However, he’d be able to see if anyone had attempted to break through.

After confirming that the safeguards remained untouched, the two tall men slipped back into the house and rejoined the discussion around the coffee table as if they’d never been gone.

 

John glanced up one time, caught Jared’s shrug and nod and nodded back. Rubbed the back of his neck and checked Jeff to make certain he was all right. Sensing John’s glance, Jeff looked up and leaned against John’s side.

 

“Baby boy, do you need to go to sleep?”

 

“Hmmm? Nope – I’m fine. I had that nap while you guys were fighting about the timeline, ‘member?”

 

“We were _discussing_ the timeline.”

 

“Loudly. Do you think that the list is all right?”

 

“No. It’s out of order and incomplete. Sam’s been looking back through things, and Jared’s good at research, but I think the trail goes back a long way. A lot farther than what we have here.”

 

“That translates to ‘Dad doesn’t think this list is right,’” Dean clarified. 

 

“Really? The fact that he has permanent scowl lines isn’t a clue, too?” Jeff grinned and took John’s left hand in his. “Subtle, that’s you,” he murmured.

 

John leaned down and kissed the top of Jeff’s head. “I love you. Be quiet.” He immediately tensed, realizing how the tone he’d used on the last two words might have been misinterpreted by the still frail man at his side. But when he risked a look at Jeff’s face, he saw only an impish smile that broadened until it was a full on impish grin.

 

For the first time. John fell in love with Jeff all over again just seeing the kindling, amused glint in his eyes and the trusting expression on his face.

 

He could also have done a victory dance. Instead, he grinned a little and arched one eyebrow. Jeff blushed and leaned against him again, surrounded by people who loved him and would die protecting him. More importantly, he knew he could offer some measure of help should they be in trouble. In the days since John, Sam and Dean had rescued him, since Jared and Jensen had, without question, come to be with him, no matter what, he’d begun to build back his courage. Never, of course, realizing that he hadn’t lost it in the first place, something which John knew very well indeed.

 

All of them stretched aching backs and shoulders, walked around the great room a little to loosen up.

 

Then, intending to look at the list one more time and then go to bed, they returned to the task at hand.

 

 

1\. Dean Winchester meets and is helped by Coyote. 

2\. Coyote reveals concern about current physical appearance. Shape shifting ability is not affected, but human form remains Dale Earnhardt in appearance. Coyote assumed form twice during Mr. Earnhardt’s life, never in a racing situation, but had not for several years. Information not previously shared with John and Sam Winchester. (“You didn’t have to put that down, Sam.” “Yeah, Dean, I did.”)

3\. Rawhead talks during Winchester hunt “Dad, he didn’t exactly talk.” “Dean, the sound was “Jo, jo, jo…’Wait! Dad, Dean, remember? The way the EMF stopped working, the way you said his footsteps just stopped, the way we heard the meter come back in the middle of a squeal!” “Crap, you’re right. Get that in there. The son of a bitch must have done what Jared and Jensen did at the airport. What you guys did at the Court House.” “We didn’t _do_ anything. I just wish I knew what it was that we didn’t do so we can do it again.”)

4\. Horned god seen by pedestrians on Sheridan Avenue in Cody, Wyoming (need confirmation of newspaper information and witness names). Later on I-70 in Colorado (“Dude, was that who that was? I’m going to mess up the name. Ceurnunos” “Yeah, Jared.” “You sound like you weren’t surprised!” “I wasn’t surprised that it was him, but I was damn surprised that he stepped in and rescued us. Remember that drive through the night until we got to the tunnel?” “I thought I dreamed that.” “That would be ‘no.” “Where were we?” “I have no idea. But the when of it was night.”)

5\. S. Winchester hears vocal warning to leave area of rawhead hunt, ditto airport parking lot. Other hunches have been in form of thoughts. 

6\. Large leggy, rough coated black dogs (wolves? Hellhounds?) seen in Mabon. No humans or others harmed. Dogs seemed disoriented and non-aggressive. Either wandered farther or returned to their starting point. Seen two times, October1993 and October 1997. (Confirm dates and sightings)

7\. Unusual patterns showing sky colors bleeding into each other rather than normal shadings from horizon to zenith, succeeding days, Kickaha Reservation, Canada. Further, vague references, Northern New York, estimated years 1967-1970, near summer solstice.

8\. Family on outing shunted to and stranded in Mabon: currently no means of retrieving them. Similar possible strayings noted in 1986, per the journal of Sophie Etoile and the memory of Mr.Truepenny. However, in 1986, the strayers came and went freely. Average age of earlier visitors: 12.

9\. Sixteen year old male Lynu Native American found lost in Tombs in Newford Canada. Angelina Marceau (Grasso Street Angel) rescued and returned to family. The young man had no memory of coming to Newford, no family in the city. No criminal record, blood tests clear.

10\. Possible fairy ring, malevolent in nature, traps and kidnaps two children, siblings, Augusta GA, 2005. There is some suspicion that non-supernatural kidnapping is involved. No records of ransom notes. Both parents cleared of any complicity. No remains discovered. Investigation considered cold case.

11\. J. D. Morgan kidnapped, Vancouver, CA – Not a direct SPN event, however, related to other on-going matters.

12\. Bodies of three of the four kidnappers found in Kellygnow Wood, Ontario, Can less than thirty hours after last seen in Co. Per the coroner’s report, the time of death of all three was approximately six days previously, when all had been very much alive in Breckenridge, CO. No signs of freezing, mummification or other phenomena which might explain discrepancy.

13\. Red Oak (Quercus coccineia tamsonaii) sub species previously found only in Tamson House Forest found growing in Kellygnow Wood on Newford’s southwest border.

14\. Jeffrey Dean Morgan dreams of John Winchester numerous times over his teen and adult years. Knows his only as “this week?” and, later, “John”.

15\. John Winchester has dreams about a young person who looks like him over a same period of years Assumes interference from poltergeist or other spirit.

16\. John W. sustained severe chest injury during a dream in which he rescued the unnamed man who mirrors him. When discussing their dream experiences, the presence of the injury and the memories of both men proved that they had indeed met in dreamspace. Nature of connection between dream and everyday life is uncertain.

17\. John Winchester and Jeffrey Dean Morgan meet. John Winchester is fictional character in series SPN. JDM portrayed John Winchester. Shock of imaginary being real is still being addressed.

18\. John learns of the existence of his color song. JDM learns of his as well. Existence of color songs (J. Winchester’s name for phenomena) previously unrecorded. Nature appears variable.

19\. Sophie Etoile and Meran Kellady discover tracks outside of Mabon believed to belong to hunting wolves not seen previously anywhere near Mabon. Related to black dogs? 

20\. Bobby Singer, hunter (see Journal, all volumes I-IV), cites seven sightings of what may be high elf kindred in preceding ten months in North America. Possible slip through via Tamson? 

21\. Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles identified by Nancy Creek as third of three pairs of individuals key to current situation. Protection extended immediately. Jared Padalecki sees Crow Girls, as well as unknown shadow where there shouldn’t be one, in Vancouver British Columbia. 

22\. Niagara Falls stops for four point three minutes. July 13, 2007. No ice formations noted. Temperature 83 Fahrenheit, 28.34 Celsius, 301.48 Kelvin. DVD images available from witnesses proved to be pristine.

23\. Tsunami retreats before reaching shore, Singapore, November 2003. Wave reached thirty feet in height before retreating and subsiding (in that order), DVD recording confirms. DVD recording pristine, multiple sources, multiple perspectives.

24\. Flood destroys I-10 bridge, Southern Arizona at Vail. No rain within 300 miles. 

25\. Previously unknown AC/DC album discovered in collection of Barbara Danvers, Seldon ME. Ms. Danvers collects rap and country and has no other heavy metal CDs. (“She was developing some good taste,” Dean groused. “That’s not strange.” “It is impossible for you not to have every AC/DC tape or CD ever created. You’ve never even heard of this one. THAT’S the reason it’s strange.” “Thanks, Sam.”)

26\. Tamson House is relocated over night from Ottawa to Newford, Canada.

27\. J. Padalecki sees Crow Girls and disembodied shadow, Vancouver BC prior to contact with Winchesters and J. Morgan. Does not forget seeing Crow Girls – unusual reaction.

28\. More detail about happenings at Vancouver Airport and during trip from Denver to Breckenridge are noted in journal pages attached.

29\. Wilmot, NC – severe winds and rain cause extensive damage to property, June 18, 2006. Skies are blue. No funnel clouds. Assessment of newspaper reports ongoing.

30\. Tamson House is in Newford. How the hell did it get there? (John doodled idly for a moment, thinking).

31\. This list is basic and incomplete. A good beginning. See annotations in Journal of JDW. Ongoing.

32\. Crow Girls reference “cousins” as people to speed up the travel between Colorado and Newford. Unclear as to the identity of cousins. 

 

 

 

 

****

The previous day

 

“You who? Yoohoo?” Zia echoed. “Yes, me!”

 

Jensen just gaped. He’d never seen anyone like the two young girls standing just behind Jared. Except that Jared had turned and was now facing the arrivals, protecting Jensen. Jensen almost failed to recognize that fact. A blush streaked his cheekbones when he caught up with the script. 

 

Each no more than five feet tall, waif-slender bodied and thin limbed , black haired, the two girls stood a little away from Jared and watched him, their heads cocking first to the left and then to the right. They wore black skirts, cut short, and long sleeved skinny sweaters that sparkled with colored thread and looping and diving designs like daisies and oak leaves: yellow, orange, but, greens, purples from deep orchid to lavender. Dark, dark brown eyes alight with curiosity, hair sticking up like a porcupine’s quills on a really bad quill day, they waited for someone to say something first. 

 

“Something.” Zia decided to take her turn: she was fond of silent games, but the tall Jared in front of her didn’t seem as if he was. He kept opening his mouth and shutting it: she thought he might be exercising his face.

 

“What?”

 

“Something. I said something first. Then you say something.”

 

“Something?” Jared had the distinct impression that he’d somehow climbed to the top of a ski-slope in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

 

“Yes! “ Zia encouraged him.

 

“But I don’t know what to say,” Jared protested.

 

“You do know what to say. You just said something.” 

Completely over his head, Jared cast a woebegone look at Sam, who smothered his first, and second and third urges to laugh out loud. He remembered his first meeting with Zia and Maida. And his second and twelfth. Three through eleven had blurred a bit. Twelve was when he stopped trying to understand the Crow Girls, going instead for accepting without all the trying. 

 

“The something?” he asked either Zia or Maida. Is that why we should go to Newford?”

 

“That’s where this something started. Where it is.”

 

“Sam, who are these people?” Jensen spoke politely, but his hand had found Jared’s waistband, and he hooked his finger through one of the belt loops. Jared reached behind himself and grasped Jensen’s hand, squeezed it for reassurance. Encouraged, Jensen snugged against Jared’s side four seconds later.

 

“May I?” Sam asked the pair.

 

“May you- oh, yesofcourse!” Smiling, the two turned their needle sharp gazes back toward Jensen and Jared.

 

“This is Jensen. That’s Jared. They’re visiting.”

 

“And this is Zia. This is Maida.” Jared nodded to each girl in turn. Another silence filled the next minute and thirty four seconds. “I’ve seen you before.”

‘There! Now you’ve said a lot of something! You win!” Zia announced solemnly. “We saw you too, but we didn’t remember as well as you did. Our remembers aren’t as big as yours.” Maida laughed at that and Zia joined in just for the fun of it. 

 

Abruptly, Zia seemed to remember something, although the remembering wasn’t something to talk about. But the what of the remember WAS something worth discussing.

 

“Sam is there –“Zia piped up hopefully.

 

“Sam could there be – “Maida chimed in.

 

“Just a bit of sugar for coffee?”

 

“OH, and, of course, coffee?”

 

“Veryvery true. Without coffee there would be nothing to hold the sugar. Except a cup, which would be empty without either.”

 

“Holding an empty cup would be better if it has an interesting inside.” Maida finished. “Do you have cups with interesting insides?”

 

“You haven’t told us why you’re here.” Dean used the direct approach, mainly because he had been lost in the Crow Girls’ Verbal Volleyball tournaments before.

 

“To tell you. To go to Newford.” Zia explained. “Tamson House showed up there this morning.”

 

“It doesn’t belong in Kellygnow Wood. But it’s there. Just like the red oak.” Maida’s expression was as open as Sam and Dean had ever seen it. She was worried, plain and simple.

 

“That’s a puzzle,” Zia continued. “Do you like puzzles? Or games? We know a lot of games-“

 

“We had planned to leave after sleep and a complete debrief.” John’s voice sounded faint at least to himself. More firmly, he added, “We need to do both.”

Maida squinted and looked at John. Then at Jeff. Then at the air overhead. “Starting tomorrow –?”

 

“Late tomorrow.”

 

“Will work,” Yes. Drive quickly. Or the cousins can take you other ways.”

 

“Cousins?” Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. 

 

“The cousins. You know them!” Maida explained. “Or they know you.”

 

“Maida, I don’t think they’ve met the cousins.”

 

“Of course they have!”

 

“Maybe the cousins have been asleep when the Winchesters came calling? And they don’t know.”

 

“Hmm – that’s a possible. Am I humming the possible note passably?”

 

“Maida makes strange jokes. But they’re her best tries. And they’re free after she tells them.” Zia explained in her best teacher’s voice.

 

“Could you make do with a partial completedebrief?”

 

“No. We need to do a complete completedebrief.” John smiled at the Crow Girls and received their smiles in return.” We’ll have sugar and coffee ready for you when you come back.”

 

“You will be veryvery tired.” 

 

Zia glanced at Maida, cocked her head and considered Maida’s words. “Yes. Veryvery tired.”

 

“Then I’ll put the coffee maker on a timer and it’ll start itself.” Neither girl said a word, but Maida squinted her left eye and Zia her right. “I can use a coffee maker! That toaster was defective!”

 

‘Not until you tried to wash out the breadcrumbs and then have it make toast to dry out,” Sam reminded his dad.

 

“Thank you for the support, Sam.” John glowered in Sam’s general direction. 

 

“I’m glad I could help.”

 

When John looked back toward Zia and Maida, they had already gone. However, they all heard “Don’t wash the coffee pot!” followed by laughter.

 

 

****

 

 

For a long time, Zia watched Maida think. Red cobwebs and purple circles. Deep thinking, then. Zia sighed impatiently.

 

“Do you have to use the cobwebs? Is this so important? I like circles better.’

 

“You like thinking in circles,” Maida’s voice came to Zia from a long way away: somewhere two feet from her on the same pine branch. “I like thinking this way. Look at the way those two connect! Is _that_ where they are? In there?”

 

“Let me see. I like the view from that brown cobweb better. We can put them there.”

 

“No, not this time. Maybe if the story gets told again.” 

 

“I think – “Zia started. And continued to do just that rather than answer Maida’s question. She added several swirls in chartreuse and a spiral in large yellow, thinking around Maida’s thinking.

 

“Zia, what are you thinking? Oh! Put another circle there! We need sparklies”

 

“I’m thinking that we should stay here tonight. The sky is all prickly.”

 

“Just what I was thinking!”

 

“He’ll be very tired.”

 

“He will.” Both girls laughed: anyone walking near would have seen two crows conversing. Only Coyote might have noticed that the cawing held a note of worry. 

 

 

****

 

 

The arrival of Tamson House in Newford ended the chronologic list. They hadn’t discussed it, mostly because John, of all of them, had been the only one to see and step inside the house. John wasn’t too certain of the nature of the place. He’d picked up some ideas, but not many, and he didn’t want to speculate. The biggest impression he had been submerged in was one of immense power and even more immense age.

 

How a building the size of a full city block had managed to move from Ottawa to Newford over night presented a puzzle that John knew he couldn’t answer in Breckenridge. They’d have to leave and get to Newford as quickly as possible. He needed to speak with Bobby, and with Nancy. Nothing made a lot of sense. And that made John Winchester testy.

 

Something held him back from that announcing a specific time to get on the road. The reluctance had dragged at him the entire time they’d been debriefing, and, by the time they stretched and decided to go to bed, what had been a brush of a feeling had developed into a full blown aversion. 

 

Puzzled, he glanced down to look at Jeff sitting next to him. The chair was, however, empty. More surprisingly, Jeff had walked by himself toward the bedroom door. Alone, not looking back at John or any of the others. Something about the stoop of his shoulders warned John that Jeff had been thinking. Adding up multiplication problems or something of the sort. 

 

Jeff heard John’s almost silent footsteps and stopped in his tracks, his face averted from John’s scrutiny. “Baby boy, it’s going to be okay. I’m not leaving you. You’re coming, too. Jeff?” John had never felt solid resistance from Jeff, so the fact that he had to pull the man around to face him set him on edge.

 

“I don’t want to go from here,” Jeff choked. “I don’t want to go back there.”

 

John didn’t know what to say or do. He’d been afraid that Jeff might decide that the outside world was too frightening. More importantly, he’d known the minute the possibility crossed his mind that he would stay in Breckenridge or wherever Jeff wanted him to be. Remain with Jeff because, simply, he had no life without the younger man. “Then-we stay here,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you.”

 

“John, you didn’t let me finish.” Jeff’s laugh shook as much as his hands did when he touched John’s face with his fingertips. “I don’t want to. But I’m going. With you. Wherever you go. Wherever you are.” He leaned toward John and kissed him. “I love you,” he whispered into John’s ear.

 

“Okay, you two! Get a room! Oh, wait, you have one! Dad, I’m going to put the coffee pot on automatic. You get some rest- or whatever it is that you’re doing.”

 

“Dean, cut it out! Thanks for getting the coffee, though. Jeff, let’s use that room Dean’s talking so diplomatically about.”

 

“Yessir!” Jeff joked lightly. John’s hand clasped in his, he led the rest of the way to their bedroom.

Once the door had shut behind them, John pulled Jeff into his arms and examined him closely. “I will stay here. I don’t want you in danger, and that’s all that we’re going to be dealing with from here on out.”

 

“John, you can no more stay here and ignore what’s happening than you could have left me to die in that dream. We’re going. You and I. I’ll carry your shotgun or something. Or I can learn how to shoot.”

 

“Uhm- we’ll see about that.” They burst into quiet laughter and kissed languidly. Careful, John framed Jeff’s face between his hands and leaned his forehead against Jeff’s. John’s brows came together when he felt Jeff’s erection against his thigh. “Jeff?”

 

‘Make love to me? Please?” Jeff felt desperate and in need of reassurance that he was alive and that John was truly there. “I need you. Please, John.”

 

“Baby boy, remember what happened, what the Coyote said? That was only a few hours ago. He was pretty serious.”

 

“I don’t care. I want you. And you wouldn’t hurt me anyway. You couldn’t.”

 

“I can’t take that risk. Coyote is ancient beyond ancient. He sees through to the past and on to the future. ” John tried for some levity. “We could give each other really intense blow jobs?” 

 

Jeff grinned back. “I’d like that. Tomorrow. Tonight? John, are you afraid because I’m a virgin?”

 

John went scarlet. Then white. And then extremely deep scarlet. “Yes. No. Yes, hell, Jeff, I don’t know! 

 

"I-“His words stuck in his throat and he coughed a little to clear it. “I-what if you don’t like it. Like- me? What if I do something wrong?”

Jeff didn’t speak. Instead, he slowly unbuttoned the top button of John’s flannel. Then, even more slowly, the second button. And the third. His tongue flickered out and he traced the v- at the neck of John’s T-shirt. “Jeff?” 

 

Jeff shook his head, smiling a little, never stopping his delicate tongue strokes up under John’s chin, across the softness of the skin there. His tongue pressed rhythmically against John’s jawbone and then swiped at John’s left earlobe. Fucked quickly into his ear and then slid across the hypersensitive skin behind it.

Through a cloud of sensation, John realized dimly that Jeff had pulled his flannel off and had worked his T-shirt free of his jeans. “Baby?”

 

“Hmm?” Jeff slid his palms up under John’s shirt and stroked across his chest, carding through the hair there, playing with John’s nipples. Tugging at them and twisting them a little. Being extra careful with the left nipple. Mouthing them through the material of John’s t-shirt, leaving a wet circle where his tongue had explored. Enough to make John shudder, to make his cock start to leak and his knees wobble. “Jeff, what are you_ohhh…” 

 

“John, I want to take off your clothes.” Jeff whispered the words into John’s mouth. Felt the uncoordinated nod. Laughed. 

 

They hadn’t heard it building behind them, soft and rhythmic, the heavy, deep bass of John’s color tone cradling and protecting Jeff’s silver blue. But it was there. They were there. Silver blue and green gold rising slowly from the floor, winding sinuously around the two men, slicking and sliding on their flesh, around and up and up against, warmth scaling their bodies as Jeff removed John’s clothes, licking and kissing as he went.

 

Dazed, John made a motion to pull Jeff closer and was meant with an impatient chuff of air.

 

Jeff pulled off his own clothing, never breaking eye contact with John, gazing over every inch of the older man’s body. Stare lingering long over the strong muscles of John’s arms and chest, the nightmare of a slash there, the long lines of John’s legs, the length of his rigid cock, its wetness, the deep red color of the head. The helpless way John’s hands curled on themselves: he wanted to grip his shaft and relieve some of the pressure, but he didn’t dare, not with this stranger-Jeff watching him.

 

Naked, Jeff neared him and knelt in front of him, rubbed his cheek along the length of John’s cock, licked the insides of his thighs. Held him close and still, his arms bracing around John’s knees. Nudged his legs apart and, startling John a little, licked his groin and thrust his face between John’s legs, licking his balls and nibbling carefully behind them. A drop of John’s precome wetted Jeff’s shoulder.

 

“Bed? Now?” John asked breathlessly. Received a determined “No” in answer, although the word was muffled between John’s legs.

 

Jeff ran his fingers along that line of John’s hip, raising gooseflesh as he went. Still on his knees, he stroked John’s cock as he pivoted John so that his back faced Jeff’s eager hands and his ass shivered as Jeff stroked the solid muscles and licked up John’s spine as he rose to his feet. 

 

He’d wanted this for so long, loved John for so long, and it was time. Arms around John’s waist, he pressed into the older man’s broad shoulders and began to stroke along John’s ribs, then up his sides, stopping at John’s neck to lick and nibble the skin. A deep expulsion of air and John’s body relaxed just enough for Jeff to reach over and kiss the spot he bit down into a heartbeat later. Drew a little blood and refused to let John wriggle free.

 

“Jeff – we can’t! You-“John tried to pull clear. He really did, but the snarl from Jeff stopped him in his tracks. “Jeff?”

 

“Bed. Now.” Was all Jeff could manage. He took John’s hand in his and pulled him to the side of their bed. Turned John and demanded “Look at me.”

 

John’s breath caught in his throat. Still rail thin, still shaking, Jeff nevertheless was the single most beautiful thing John had seen in his life. His eyes burned with unadulterated desire, and his smile carried with it more of the wolf that John had heard in himself when he and Jeff had almost True Met. The curly, dark hair rioted on his head and his face showed the effect John’s nearness had on him. Jeff half stepped toward John, half yanked him into his embrace.

 

John didn’t have any thought to spare. His world consisted of Jeff holding him, Jeff kissing and stroking and nibbling and licking everywhere he could reach, catching John’s cock between his thighs and humping against him, reaching around and through with one hand to tickle John’s cock’s head as he humped more openly. Unable to think, John moaned and crashed to the bed. John landed on top of him, and stilled in Jeff’s embrace.

 

“Jeff – oh god Jeff” he whispered as Jeff grasped John’s cock between them and began to undulate against it, still kissing his John’s lips and biting everywhere, memorizing. Caught, out of control, John felt heat between his legs and his balls tighten. “Jeff-no! Not…oh god, Jeff” And he came, the heat and wet spreading between them. “Jeff? Baby?” 

 

Jeff retrieve the lube from its place in his dresser drawer: he’d put it there earlier when John had been occupied with the debriefing session. Just in case John wanted to – had made plans – He returned to the bed, prowling over John’s body on his hands and knees, his cock rigid and swaying with his movements. His dick throbbed with need. And he knew only one thing. That the one under him was his. And that he would have nothing less than the one, to be united and to claim him. 

 

John realized almost too late what Jeff intended to do. He had had no premonition, until he saw the lube. “Jeff, are you sure? Are you certain you want this?” 

 

“Yes.” Jeff managed as the colorsongs wrapped around them and his filtered into him and the goldgreen of his Otherself filled John’s body. 

 

He couldn’t taste John enough, touch him, make him move or groan enough. He had to have more, to have John, to be inside him. 

 

John backed away on the bed, suddenly fearful that Jeff would get hurt, that everything was happening backward. But as quick as the stray thought struggled to his conscious, it laughed at him and buried itself back into the ribbons of blue and silver. Curled and twined around the ribbons of green and gold that were John’s color song. 

 

‘-See you.” No question there. John felt the tip of Jeff’s cock leaking along his abs and saw stars. He’d forgot to breathe. Breathe! Then Jeff was pushing a pillow under John’s ass, wiping precome off his cock and rubbing it into John’s ball sack. Claiming.

 

“Please. Please. Oh god, please-” John lost his voice. Heard the click of the lube being opened and felt the weight and heat of Jeff’s body on him, his tongue in his mouth, down his throat. Fucking him so hard and deep that he almost came again from the sensation of Jeff’s tongue in him. He realized belatedly that Jeff had eased a finger, then two into his opening, and was stretching him

 

The need to join with John pushed violently at Jeff and he fought to control, all the while wanting to do nothing more than lose that control and push into John’s body. One finger, then two and he felt the tight ring of muscle begin to loosen, to respond.

 

Everything coiled down to the two of them. John on his back, wide open, vulnerable, begging Jeff, “Please. Please, I need you. Please.” The words falling and staggering over each other, his body working up against the fingers – two? No three- inside him. Jeff on him whispering, “We’re almost- John put one leg on my shoulder.” He thought his dick was drowning in lube and that it might not be enough and then he didn’t think any more.

 

John felt the head of Jeff’s cock pushing against him and tried to exhale, but nothing mattered. Nothing except getting Jeff inside of him of having the heavy, throbbing member buried inside-inside- Jeff breached him and John strained up just as he grabbed Jeff’s ass and pulled him down.

 

He screamed – too much, too fast, too hard. Too – and Jeff slammed into John’s prostate full on. Twisting his hips around the wide thing in his ass, clenching himself around it, crying unashamed and clinging to Jeff for all he was worth. Jeff dominated him humping, rutting deep and hard until John stiffened and he stiffened is response, rode him into orgasm and came himself deep in John’s ass. .

 

And the color songs answered their passion. Wrapped and twined about them, blue silver holding gold green. John sobbed again and clung to Jeff for all he was worth. 

 

“And it begins.” Came a soft thought from far beyond them, deep and long outside their hearing. 

 

Jeff looked down at John, who couldn’t let him go. Wouldn’t let him go. Who clenched his muscles around Jeff to keep him inside. Jeff felt unconsciousness rising to claim him and fought it back. He heard John crying and opened his eyes slowly. No coherent thoughts flashed through his mind. He kissed John and tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Not then.

 

Suddenly Jeff understood the reason for John’s tears. Sluggish, horrified at the pain he’d caused, he managed to talk, to be there for John as John had been for him. 

 

“John – oh gods – what have I done?”

 

“Jeff, don’t. Please don’t move. I want you here this way. Please don’t go.”

 

“Go? I’m yours, John Winchester. I love you. You were a virgin. Weren’t you?”

 

John only nodded and looked away. 

 

“I’m so sorry – I hurt you so much! Damn-”

 

John shook his head and, wet cheeked, smiled. “Only you. Forever. For always. Only you.”

 

“Only you,” Jeff echoed as, very carefully, he withdrew from John and slid down to lie on his side, still holding the hunter. Kissing him, then being kissed and held, both of them dazed. 

 

Jeff had begun to shake: the Coyote had been right, and he had put every ounce of energy on the line mating with John. “John…”

 

“Just stay quiet. Let me care for you. Please.” 

 

Slowly, John recovered his bearings and managed to sit up. Reluctant to leave Jeff for even a moment, John still went for washcloths and warm water to bathe their bodies before they slept. He saw no blood on Jeff’s cock and didn’t feel any tearing, and thanked the kind deities who’d protected them both.

 

Once they were clean and warm, wrapped in each other and blankets, sleep folded itself into their joined colorsongs and bade them rest. 

 

And over them, through them, binding them, the color songs blanketed and wrapped them. They slept.

 

 

_And it begins._

_Hush, brother. Let them rest._


	17. Chapter 16

Curled around Jeff’s sleeping warmth, John didn’t really register the first triple tap plus one. Thirty seconds later, it repeated, just a bit louder; and John woke up a little. Beside him, Jeff slept with his face plastered against John’s neck and his arms wrapped tight around John’s waist. John smiled at the memory of what had happened a few hours earlier and kissed Jeff’s forehead. His eyelids dropped shut as he whispered, “I love you.”

 

The third taptaptap tap was clear enough to bring John fully awake. Careful not to disturb Jeff, he glanced over his shoulder and squinted at the window. His expression shifted from irritation to surprise between one heartbeat and the next.

 

Knowing that what someone sees is not necessarily what’s there to be seen, he slid a hand beneath his pillow and grabbed his hunting knife. When Jeff murmured his name, he whispered, “Back to sleep, baby boy. ‘s all right.” Once Jeff had drifted off, he eased from their bed and covered the younger man, tucking his pillow against Jeff’s stomach and making sure the blanket and comforter had him well cocooned. Jeff’s jacket over all and one sleeve tight in Jeff’s grasp left John felt more comfortable leaving his love. 

 

For five minutes, no more. And, hunter or no, he found it impossible to dress and go without staring at Jeff’s face for a few more seconds. The distance between them was too great: he refused to give in to his feelings, since the potential for danger to Jeff was greater. But his heart ached to turn away from their bed.

 

He climbed into his clothes and socks, then crossed the room to the door, listening intently. He found himself shaking his head to distract himself from listening to Jeff breathing. From the great room came sounds that might have been snoring. At least they sounded like snoring - or panting. 

 

Oh crap, it was panting.

 

John steadied his breath and considered the options. Hunter-silent, he opened the bedroom door walked flat footed to the front door, focusing on getting out before things became too intense over on the sleeper sofa. When the volume of noise reached near orgasm, he stepped over the inside salt lines, opened the front door, stepped over the outside salt lines and shut the door behind him. 

 

****

 

Bobby Singer had had one hell of a day. Travelling with Nancy and Tuesday Creek sitting in the cab of his truck steering him had been an adventure from the get go. One that he had no intention of repeating. Ever. That is, after returning to Newford the way they’d arrived. The thought of the return trip made his head ache. At least, he mused grumpily, he didn’t suffer from nausea during side- stepping.

 

Then John tapped him on the shoulder. Bobby grabbed for his pistol and wheeled around. When he saw John, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to shake the man’s hand or snap his neck. 

 

“Damnit John, you scared the snot out of me!” he hissed.

 

“I could say the same thing about you. What the hell are you doing here, Bobby? And how the hell did you get here! You were in Newford!”

 

Bobby pointed silently at the two Creek sisters who had stayed in the truck to keep warm. “We were looking for you, ya idjit!” When they noticed that John had joined Bobby at the front door, they climbed out of the truck and walked over to the two men.

 

“You knew where I was. We talked on the phone. Remember? Why didn’t ya just call? Nancy, Tuesday, it’s good to see you again-“

 

“You’re looking well, John,” Tuesday observed, laughter just behind her quiet words. Although she was Nancy’s junior by four years, Tuesday’s face seemed older, until someone noticed that the wrinkles she carried were the topography of laughter amid tears and hope, no matter what. She seemed to be an average middle aged woman, as did Nancy. Until someone who knew enough to, looked.

 

Nancy Creek, eldest of the sisters, oftentimes assuming the parental role in years past, wore her age well: only the grey in her braids indicated that she might be something older than 55. To look into her strangely colored brown/grey eyes was to see something else again. John wondered if her shadow had remained on the reservation. Morning would be time enough to tell that.

 

“I’ve been out here too long. Let’s get back inside. Hopefully, everyone is asleep.” He opened the door tentatively, hoping that what he’d heard a couple of minutes earlier, had been orgasmic in nature.

 

“Or not.” Tuesday chuckled. John, for his part, turned scarlet when he realized what he was hearing. At the same time, his stomach began to ache – he needed to get back to Jeff.

 

“Jay, please-please. Need you. God, I need-unghhh- god, more!” The last word was a groan followed by the unmistakable sound of mattress springs being crushed to within a coil of their lives. “Jay- ughnn – there – sorry, sorry – ohgod don’t stop! – _there, yeah, there!_ – sorry. I wasted – nodon’tgostay deeper! All the time I _wasted._ Stupid – “ His voice trailed off as Jared’s cock against his prostate and deep inside him sent him over the edge. “Jay-Jared-God- deeper harder. More! I’m – Jay!” the last word a howl as Jensen came between the two of them.

 

Jared could still feel Jensen’s come inside himself, could feel it trickling from his hole. And could feel the sticky warmth of Jensen’s second orgasm on his abs. Frantic to have him closer, Jensen tightened his legs around Jared’s back and pulled him tight against himself, his own hips circling, grinding down on the hard cock inside him. 

 

“Tell-me. Tell – me –whatyouwant.” Jared panted, straining to maintain control, while his cock throbbed with the need to lose it.

 

“Fill me. Fill me like I filled you. Come for me. Pleaseplease, Jay, fuck me open! Burns-need you!” Jensen forgot where he was, forgot everything but the man over him, inside him. Claiming him as he had claimed Jared in turn. He arched against Jared and pulled him down, shifted himself a little and squeezed himself around Jared’s rigid cock.

 

With a cry of his own, Jared came, surging against Jensen, pumping deep into him, spasming again and again. Then crashing down onto his forearms, avoiding crushing the older man. Kissing his bitten lips and licking where he kissed. Panting, he rested his forehead against Jensen’s and caught his breath. 

 

He hauled air into parched lungs and blinked sweat out of his eyes until he could see something other than spots. And there Jensen lay, eyes wide and warm, awe filling his expression. They kissed gently and Jared nuzzled the side of Jensen’s nose with his own. Sated, exhausted. Content. 

 

“Jared?” Jensen’s voice slid all around Jared’s name. He knew they were in a building, but he didn’t remember or care where. The light behind Jared’s head glowed orange and sang river water on stone. Jensen was drawn into the light, into Jared’s embrace and he clung to him with every ounce of strength that he had.

 

“Jensen?”

 

“Please don’t leave me. “

 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. At least – not without – you.” Careful, he eased himself from Jensen’s body and rolled down on his side. He pulled Jensen close and yawned prodigiously. “Sleep. For awhile.” And chuckled.

 

Too worn out to be coherent, Jensen nodded and settled himself half over Jared. In seconds the only audible noise was soft, deep breathing.

 

And John’s teeth chattering in the early evening coolness. He turned to warn everyone to keep it down when he saw Nancy walk through the closed door. Tuesday followed just as calmly as if she and her sister were on a walk to check trap lines. Bobby waited for John, who shook his head and shrugged. 

 

John hated stepping sideways. Although he could do it if he tried, he didn’t like to. There were safe paths in Otherwhen. And very treacherous paths in Otherwhen. He preferred his feet within an atom’s distance of the ground in his home dimension. “C’mon, John. You’re gonna turn into a block’o ice. Wear your damn boots the next time!”

 

As soon as he knew he’d cleared the depth of the door, John opened his eyes and looked everywhere but the bed where Jared and Jensen lay under a huddle of blankets. The smell of sex was strong in the air, and he felt his cock twitch. His ass didn’t share the same enthusiasm. And his need to be back with Jeff pulled him almost physically toward the bedroom.

 

Then he heard it – the soft sobbing and the forlorn, “John?”

 

“I have to get in there. Now!” He glanced at the clock on the stove and blanched. He’d been away for too long. Jeff must have wakened and found that he was gone. Forgetting that he hadn’t side stepped back, he headed toward the bedroom.

 

“Don’t go in there out of synch – John you asshole!” Bobby wrenched John out of otherwhen once he figured that the hunter had cleared the bedroom door. Maybe, just maybe- Jeff’s terror-filled scream squashed that thought. With a sigh, Bobby shook his head and advised the sisters to “Leave it. He’ll have to settle things down. Idjit.”

 

 

Jeff had awakened slowly, tired and contented and smiling at a dream he’d had, one hand searching automatically for John. When he didn’t find him in bed, his eyes opened halfway and he squinted to see what wrapped him warm and safe. A pillow? John’s pillow? And blankets and his jacket. Where-he couldn’t hear John in the bedroom or the bathroom, although he could hear Jared and Jensen very clearly. His smile faded when he realized that John’s clothes were gone. A faint twist of panic began to curl in Jeff’s gut. 

 

Had John left him? Had Jeff hurt him so badly when they’d made love that John had left him alone? The room was darker than the world outside and he felt himself tensing. He didn’t even realize he’d started to cry as the panic shot through him and his mind crashed in on itself. “John?” He sat up, still wrapped in the cocoon John had created. “John?”

 

And then, out of fucking NOWHERE, some _thing_ wearing John’s face and clothes appeared. It looked like John and its voice sounded like John. But it wasn’t John. John didn’t walk out of the air. Not John. John was gone and he was alone. Had the thing in front of him killed John? Had he driven John out of the safety of the cabin into the trap set by some monster?

 

“No! No! Get back! Stay fucking away from me! Get the fuck BACK, you son of a bitch!” 

 

“Jeff, it’s me. It’s John.” The creature talked calmly and stood still, but it had walked out of the air. John where are you? What happened? No – no nononononono.

 

“Baby boy”

 

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ call me that. Only John calls me that! You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?” 

 

“Jeff, it’s me. It’s John.”

 

Jeff had reached behind himself for balance – and for the small but deadly knife that John had gifted him a few days earlier. If Jeff and he were going to travel and be together, John had explained, Jeff would need to learn hunting and self defense skills. He had practiced opening and closing the knife until he could do that in the dark without slicing his hand open – John, please come back! Please don’t leave me with this thing. Please- and had spent some time throwing it at a board John had set up as a target. But the knife was mostly for in-close self defense. John had taught him that very calmly and quietly, but Jeff understood what he really meant. If John had died, then whatever had killed him would be close enough to Jeff to allow him to use the weapon.

 

And the _thing_ looked like John.

 

“Get fucking away, or I swear I’ll slice your throat!” 

 

“Baby boy, you’re holding that perfectly. Good work!”

 

“Shut up. Shut up or I will kill you. You killed my John.” Jeff watched the thing’s face go white and its eyes begin to water. He managed to rid himself of the blankets and, eyes on the creature, shaking in spite of his best efforts not to show weakness, he slid out of bed, locked his knees and growled. “You killed him. You bastard – “

 

“Baby boy it’s me.”

 

“Prove it! Prove it to me!” Jeff growled. He watched as the creature thought a bit and then nodded. 

 

“This week?” He smiled at Jeff, cautiously. Saw the fear replaced by relief and joy.

 

Jeff felt his entire world come back to life. “John? John?” In the rush of returning background noises and being able to hear his own heartbeat and smelling John close by, Jeff wobbled toward him.

 

“Remember last night? I mean earlier today?” John unbuttoned his shirt and pointed to the purple and dark purple bruise Jeff had raised on his chest. “You make love pretty well, there, baby boy.”

 

Jeff stilted forward, still holding his knife, the weapon forgotten for the moment. And, if he’d had any reservations about John being John, the hunter’s next words laid them to rest. “Jeff? What have we talked about as far as the weapons? The most important thing.”

 

“Know where they are at all times.” Jeff parroted.

“Uhm - ?” John squinted and nodded at Jeff’s hand. “Be careful when you close it, right? I mean, if you want to close it, that is.”

 

Jeff blushed bright red and shut the knife. “John? “

 

“I’m so proud of you! You didn’t back down and I know I scared the hell out of you! I never meant to scare you, Jeff. Never thought. Bobby tried to stop me, but I had to get back to you. I didn’t – “Jeff’s lips on his effectively shut John up. 

 

“Want you,” Jeff whispered, wrapping one leg around John’s waist. “Want to be in you. Fill you up. Remind me you’re safe. You’re mine and I’m yours. _Now_ -“John moaned and nodded, covered Jeff’s groin with one hand. Jeff bit softly into John’s neck and kissed the sting away. 

 

A light tap at the bedroom door was met by a rumbling growl from John and a softer one from Jeff. “Dad?”

 

“Stay out.” John snapped just as Jeff got his jeans open and slid down to his knees to swallow John’s cock as soon as it peeked out of his boxers. Caught off guard, John shuddered and groaned as Jeff sucked and licked him, hot and fast and needing to reclaim the hunter. Who wanted to reclaim Jeff as well. “Oh Gods! Jeff!”

 

John attempted to pull back a little, but Jeff was having none of it. He yanked John forward and took his cock down as far as he could. Sucked and licked and gently tumbled John’s balls between the fingers of his right hand, then, not thinking, wanting only to possess, slid his hand back and pressed a finger into John’s entrance.

 

John came the same second he cried out against the intrusion in his still tender ass. Jeff felt the way John’s body clenched around him and remembered what had happened to whom when they had joined the first time. Caught in the heat of swallowing John’s come and holding the older man on his feet as a groan that had nothing to do with passion escaped him, Jeff waited until both of them were able to stand before he slid back up John’s front and took the hunter’s whole weight against his chest.

 

“Baby, are you bleeding?”

 

“No, no – I’m just a little sore. That’s all.” John gasped.

 

“Damn fool Winchester,” Jeff muttered to himself. Gentle, tongue still tasting of the older man’s come, he kissed John. “Bed. Now.”

 

“But, you didn’t – and it was your idea!!!”

 

“I’ll have my way with you yet, my pretty!” Jeff hammed. He watched John take a sloppy belly flop to the bed and joined him as soon as the mattress stopped shaking. 

 

“Better?”

 

“Uh hmmm. C’mere. No, not that way. Put your legs on the pillow. My turn!” 

 

Jeff swore to himself that he would never, until his dying day, admit that he _giggled_ when John’s tongue traced around the head of his cock, down the underside and around his balls. The sound and vibration of John’s laughter as he realized that Jeff had giggled shivered over Jeff’s cock and had the actor ready to come before John had fairly begun to give him the best blowjob in any direction of the Rockies.

 

****

 

“Sounds like they’re all right,” Bobby observed, wincing at the noises coming from John and Jeff’s bedroom. “Surprises me they ain’t wakened the two lovebirds over there.”

 

“Bobby,” Sam replied seriously. “A live AC/DC concert in here wouldn’t disturb them.” He snorted and shook his own head as Bobby nodded and rolled his eyes. 

 

“So, as far as I can tell, we’re in the middle of a pajama party. I’m surprised nobody wants to do their toenails or somethin’. Don’t say it, Sam. You’n’Dean head to the store an’ get the stuff on that list. Nancy and Tuesday and I’re gonna figure out how the hell to make sure we’re safe until morning. Get a move on!”

 

“I have a better idea,” Dean suggested as he strolled out of the bedroom and cocked an eye at Sam. “Why’nt you come with us, old man? All this testosterone is makin’ you crankier than you usually are.”

 

Sam grinned and nodded. “C’mon, Bobby. You three’ve been looking at each other all day long. Er - you need a break.”

 

Tuesday nodded and Nancy arched both eyebrows. Truth to tell, they needed some time to think and to find out what the land and the air were saying. Bobby respected both their beliefs and them, but he was fidgety. And twelve hours of Singer-style fidgets were enough, in Nancy’s opinion.

 

“Well, maybe you’re right. I guess. Probably. But you’re drivin’!” Bobby grunted. Without another word, he tugged his John Deere cap back onto his head and followed Sam and Dean out of the house. At least once he was outside, the only emo-stuff he’d have to deal with would be Sam and Dean’s. Somehow, that promised to be a relief. True Meeting times three. Bobby retained his firm conviction that being a monk had its charms.


	18. Chapter 17

After a trip to the Safeway in Frisco and a raid down the important aisles, the three men returned to a quiet cabin, although the smell of coffee percolating filled the air. Bonnie had come down from the house to introduce herself to Nancy and Tuesday. In the background, Sam heard the chug of a running clothes washer and cleverly avoided saying anything about the laundry to anyone.

 

“Hi, Bonnie,” Dean called, waving to her as he and Sam tromped in with enough food between them to fill a meat locker. “Bobby’s sleepin’. Something about driving with you two ladies wore him out. We’ll get him inside in a little bit.”

 

“Uh huh, sure, of course,” Tuesday laughed. Nancy, for her part, smiled and emptied the grocery bags, setting aside the food they’d need for dinner. As she worked, she talked. “We’re going to eat and get some sleep. Four hour watches, two people on a watch. John and Jeff and Jared and Jensen are too played out, so it’s going to be you two, Bobby, and us. Bonnie, do you want to give Hal a call? We’ll need his help with the grill.”

 

“And I’m too old to do that?” came Bobby’s sleepy query. Dean twitched back a smile as the hunter slicked his disheveled hair back under his John Deere cap and glowered at both Winchester sons. “On second thought, I’m takin’ a shower. I feel like last week.”

 

“Use our bathroom. It isn’t safe to bother Dad and Jeff. Don’t look so surprised, Aunt Nancy. I’m not stupid.”

 

“No? Prove it,” Sam interjected. His smile spoke volumes, even if his voice was full of teasing.

 

“Jeff and Dad are True Met. And that means,” Dean’s smile faded. “That means that they are bound life to life. They’re more than mated, more than married. They are part and parcel of each other. Aunt Nancy, what the hell happened? And how? Why?” 

 

“Dean, you sound like me. But he’s asking the questions I’d ask, Aunts.” Sam started to say more, but a flickering in the sky just at the edge of his peripheral vision made Sam turn and, shepherding Dean, walk to the window. The two brothers looked up and gaped in awe.

 

“Dean?” Sam had peeked out the window at the night sky and frozen in place. “Look at the Northern Lights! They’re like a rainbow! One that ripples and has spots.”

 

“Damn! What the hell _is_ that? Sammy’s right!” 

 

“They’re not the Northern Lights,” Tuesday stated. Her tone of voice seemed a little odd – something between matter of fact and excited. “It’s still too light out to see the aurora. Those are color songs. John’s, Jeff’s, Jared’s and Jensen’s. By the bye, could there be any more names starting in “J” here?” She glanced up at Sam. “Your color songs are there, too. They’re guarding right now. Like you do. You can’t see them: they’re off away out.” She flicked her hand in a general ‘ _out there_ ’ half wave.

 

Hal showed up a few minutes later and got the Permian-aged barbeque going. No propane tank, just a pile of starter- sprinkled charcoal that grumped to life when Hal prodded it with a fireplace Bic. As if they were moths drawn to a flame, first one and then another of the men strolled to the barbecue and commenced an appropriate level of muttering and milling around. Sam, Dean, Bobby and Hal watched the fire with the alertness of master chefs. Finally, all the men present nodded in agreement. And the meat hit the grill.

 

“Do we wake ‘em up? Or let ‘em starve?” Sam eyed the steak that had been earmarked for John and smiled hopefully at the Aunts.

 

“We wake ‘em. Carefully.”

 

“Don’t need to wake us carefully,” came Jared’s sleep soaked voice. The shower he’d taken only increased his resemblance to a starving – but clean – invalid baby giraffe. Beside him, equally clean and equally bleary-eyed, Jensen mumbled “Coffee? Smelled coffee?” Bobby strolled into the cabin and fetched a mug of coffee strong enough to satisfy even Jensen’s tastes.

 

“Sit down before you fall down. Inside – not on the ground! Sammy, I’ll wake up Dad and Jeff.” 

 

“Just knock. Don’t go in,” Sam warned. “They both growled the last time I tried to talk to Dad.”

 

 

John felt Jeff stir against him and smelled meat cooking simultaneously. “Baby boy?”

 

“N’t baby. Old.”

 

“Uh huh. Food – smell food?” He really didn’t want to open his eyes. Not unless the food was walking itself into the bedroom and climbing up onto the bed. Coffee? Steak? 

 

“Hungry, John. Time’t’eat?”

 

“Gerghjsjj” John managed. He tried the rolling-onto-his-stomach-and-pushing-up-from-there thing – but his face glued itself to the pillow and he dozed off again. Jeff, on the other hand, managed to actually keep one eye open and move a finger. Then two. He decided he needed a rest as a reward for all the effort and settled back against John’s side.

 

John barely registered the knock on their door: dark things didn’t waste time on niceties.

 

“Dad? Jeff? It’s Dean.” Dean spoke quietly, not really certain how someone should talk to True Mets. Which sounded like the name of a retro baseball team. “Guys, we’re going to eat in a few minutes. Dad, Sam has your steak under – er - observation. If you aren’t out here to eat it, he will.”

 

No response. Wait, no, the sound of sheets being pulled away from bodies-oh hell, what were they doing _now_? Dean loved sex as much as anyone, but Jeff and John had more stamina and one hell of a lot more noisy enthusiasm.

than men their ages should have. 

 

Splashing in the bathroom meant that someone had turned on the shower. A few seconds later, at least one of the two men, accompanied by grunts and groans plus more splashing stepped under the cascading water. “Jeff! Stop it! You’re gonna –Damnit I told you you’d fall!” crashed into the eardrums of anyone nearer than Denver. “Dean! Get the little first aid kit!”

 

“John, I don’t – _ouch!_ – need a first aid kit for a bruise! It’s only bleeding a – yes, sir. All right, I’ll listen to you.” 

 

Dean heard something that sounded like – giggling? No: he absolutely refused to believe it. And then the sounds of men brushing teeth and shaving. “I’m putting the first aid kit by the door. Don’t trip over it.”

 

The door opened a crack and either John or Jeff’s left hand reached out and grabbed the kit. Five minutes later, as bleary eyed as Jensen and Jared had been and a lot more bruised, Jeff and John appeared, first aid kit in Jeff’s hand, dirty linens in John’s arms. “Heard the washer” were John’s only words.

 

Jeff blushed red when he handed Dean back the first aid kit. “I slipped. John’s hurt worse, though.”

 

“Dad?”

“’S nothing. Just bruised my elbow.” Dean didn’t budge. Only after John had shown him the bruised – and cut and scraped – elbow was he allowed to head for the washing machine first and then food. Hal carried a platter of steaks into the cabin and set it reverently on the breakfast counter.

 

“All right. Enough chatter. It’s time to eat.” Sam huffed and grabbed a plate to fill from the rough buffet that Nancy and Tuesday had laid out. One steak, and enough of everything else to feed a platoon of lesser men later, he folded his lanky frame onto the sleeper sofa and started to eat. Dean followed him over and sat next to him. For a few seconds, he watched Sam slash his knife through the meat and stab the fork in 

 

“Sammy?”

 

“I’m hungry, that’s all.”

 

“Okay, baby. Do you want some beer?”

 

“Yeah, I think it might help. I feel like I’m standing on quicksand or something. There are too many damn hormones loose in this place!”

 

“Ya think?” Dean snorted. He kissed Sam and whispered, “We’re gonna end up addin’ some more if you don’t stop looking that way.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yup – that way. Right there. Damn but I love you!” Dean whispered into Sam’s ear. Sam smiled and nestled in closer. 

 

John felt the shift in the mood among them and squinted as he tried to sort out the reasons. Jared and Jensen curled up together, Jared clearly watching the rest of the people in the room. On guard. Protecting Jensen. John drew Jeff closer and stared fixedly back at Jensen and Jared. Protecting Jeff. 

 

Sam and Dean ate dinner. They knew exactly where each other were and anyone stupid enough to try to come between them was more than likely apt to find out what the view was like inside a chimney. But both men remembered the first years of their being together and refrained from making smartass jokes, although the temptation was almost overwhelming. 

 

“Okay then. Hal and I are just going to head up to the house and check the news. No – we’ll take our plates. You guys have a lot to discuss.” Bonnie understood as well as the six men did that she and Hal would be in a great deal less danger if they knew nothing about what their visitors planned to do. If they didn’t know, no one, and no _thing_ could force the information from them.

 

“Bonnie-“John started to say. She cocked her head and looked at him. “John Winchester, make sure he gets enough to eat. He’s still too thin. Jeffrey, when John warns you about slipping and falling in the shower listen to him. He’s probably already done it himself.”

 

After a round of good-nights and _thanks_ , Bonnie and Hal headed back to the house. Bobby watched them cross to their main door and waited until Hal waved in the window before he checked the salt lines and shut the cabin door.

 

“Nancy, Tuesday, not that I’m not glad to see you, I am. But why are you and Bobby here? We were starting out – well, tomorrow, now – to get to Newford and up to the reservation, anyway.”

 

“We know.” Tuesday glanced at Nancy, who sat back and let her sister do the speaking. “But yesterday things happened that changed everything. We decided to travel here and ride shotgun back with you.”

 

“We’re not going anywhere until you explain what the hell is happening,” Jared growled. “You may be used to all of this, but we aren’t. And I’m not letting Jensen walk into danger because something doesn’t _feel_ right.” Jensen stared, wide eyed, at his tall, suddenly grim, love. “No, Jensen. We need to hear.”

 

“Okay, Jay.” Jensen’s brows knitted and he wondered whether he’d ever read Jared correctly. The tall, protective presence that enfolded him with security and love had been there all the time, and he’d never seen it. Never known – shaking his head at his own blockheadedness, he looked up into Jared’s eyes and blushed. Jared grinned and kissed the tip of Jensen’s nose. Went quiet and serious and kissed his lips, his tongue sliding into Jensen’s mouth and exploring, claiming. 

 

Someone moved their plates from their laps. Under the steady throb of their hearts beating together, under the ever more complex song woven between their color songs, they made out far away words.

 

 

“Jared?” Dean. “Man, I know what you need to do. But can you hold off for a little while? Just a few minutes?” The laughter in his voice was softened by the understanding Dean felt for them. 

 

But the song sang clearer and others chorused softly and intently behind it. They sang to their own music, twined and untwined in their own serpentine swaying dance. Fed Jared and Jensen’s need. Lit need in the men to whom the color songs looked. 

 

“Hmm? Hold – “Jared felt his erection straining to be free and shook his head. “Not now. Jensen…” Jensen had already slid his own zipper down and unbuttoned his waistband. Needing, wanting, knowing that he and his love should be together. Now. Here. Fumbling, he opened Jared’s jeans and reached in to squeeze his cock. “Jensen!”

 

Bobby took one look at the two actors and frowned. This was what he’d been afraid of. The need to join, the need to brand each upon the other, was frantic and stronger than they could resist. And resistance itself would cause even more problems. He shook his head before either Nancy or Tuesday could speak.

“Look at ‘em. We need to let them do what they have to do. They have that right-and I wouldn’t want to try to pull ‘em apart.”

 

“Bobby, if they can’t control now, how are we going to get them to Newford?”

 

“Let’s give ‘em a chance to work a few kinks out. An hour or two.” Bobby had his own plans for the next couple of hours. He’d been thinking about it idly, and, given the state that the other men were in, made a decision. “Two hours. Gives me a chance to get some sleep. Oh hell, there go John and Jeff. Bedrooms, guys! _bedrooms!_ ” His sharp words penetrated the fog that had closed around the three true met couples. “ _Go!_ Idjits!” He jammed his cap back onto his head and pulled on his jacket. “I’m sleepin’ in the truck until these oversexed teenagers settle the hell down!” 

 

John snarled at Bobby. Jeff shook his head heavily and staggered to his feet, his every intention bent toward having John on him and in him. Wanted. Now. Here. He dropped to his knees and slid his jeans and boxers down so his ass was free of the material. Heard John groan and smelled arousal as he shed his own clothes and slicked himself with spit and Jeff’s precome. Shaking with need, his cock rigid and hurting, he knelt behind Jeff and whimpered when he saw Jeff opening himself, spreading himself so John could mount him and fuck him. Without a heartbeat’s hesitation, John did that, ramming himself deep into Jeff, biting the back of Jeff’s shoulder as he did so. Then crushing his hips in, circling and moaning when Jeff crashed back onto his cock more deeply. The joining was fast and hard and utterly complete and Jeff couldn’t get enough, John wanted only to feel himself part of his mate. 

 

Across from them, unheeding, Jared and Jensen tangled together. Jensen felt Jared hesitate and sought his mouth to kiss him. His right nipple brushed one of Jared’s and he hissed at the sensation that rose between them. Everything focused on the point where they touched and radiated from there, white fire that banked to smoldering red. With a groan, Jared pulled Jensen closer and up so he could suck Jensen’s nipples until they hurt and Jensen bucked under him, bleeding precome, begging mutely, then with whimpers and feeble batting of his fists against Jared’s back. “Want – want now-“he strained up feeling Jared’s wet cock rubbing against the back of his thigh and then smearing toward his hole. The sensation of Jared’s mouth sucking and pulling at his nipples translated to zinging fire along Jensen’s cock and he screamed as he exploded shuddering and spasming over and over driven by the thin filament of pleasure that spun to his navel and tugged him into orgasm. Couldn’t breathe…screaming because he felt like he was being turned inside out. And then Jared’s cock in him, its pulsing unbearable inside his over sensitive body. He could feel everything, every inch and it was- ecstatic, he convulsed around Jared, who kept his grip on Jensen’s chest while he ground into Jensen’s ass. Jared growled something deep and strong and came and Jensen gave way to unconsciousness right after his cock emptied itself again.

 

Sam and Dean had escaped. The need to be with each other riddled every thought, but they made it to their bedroom and the bed itself before the tide of need and heat swept through the walls and the door as if they didn’t exist. 

 

“Sammy?” Dean whispered as they wound around each other, tongue fucking as deeply as possible. He didn’t have a chance to think before he came the first time against Sam’s leg. Sam tensed under his straining body and held off, trying not to come immediately himself. “Baby, bed – now. Damn! What the hell?”

 

“I think it’s contagious! Did you see them? Sammy, please! Get inside me – pleasepleaseplease. Hurry up-I can’t breathe. _Hurts_ without you!” Dean felt himself tensing for another orgasm, his hips stuttering frantically begging for Sam to fill him needing it, needing Sam. Sam yanked Dean’s wet jeans down and free, and fumbled at his own button fronts, his cock pulsing in time to the movement of Dean’s hips. He slathered the remnants of Dean’s come onto his cock and slid inside Dean’s ass, startled at the spasms that greeted him. Dean clung to Sam and writhed on his cock, wrapped everything around the stiff member that he felt so keenly.

 

“Sammy, coming again? Whatthehell?” A small amount of come leaked from him as he fell into orgasm again. “Sammy! Please – more! Now!”

 

Everything sank into a maelstrom of touching and fucking and kissing, of Dean whimpering and Sam trying to hold off until, without any warning, his body took charge and he felt the come pouring out of him and into his lover. To his amazement, he felt the warmth spill between them where Dean’s cock emptied itself against his navel. 

 

“Dean?”

“S’mmy. Love you.”

“Dean? Dean?” Dean’s eyes drifted open and he smiled. When he spoke he sounded much more like himself. “Love you, baby.”

“Uhmgrfsghlmg” Sam mumbled as sleep dragged him under.

 

Nancy and Tuesday shook their heads and stared off into the night. “They can’t do this every ten minutes, Nancy.”

 

“They may have no choice, at least for the next few days. Tuesday, I don’t have a clue as to how we’re going to keep them off each other. Or apart, or whatever you want to call it. If they try to force themselves not to react, they _will_ end up worse off. We’re just going to have to find the safest way possible.”

 

“Speaking of safe? Where’s Bobby?” Tuesday stood up and walked silently to the door. “I thought he’d gone outside to check the cousins.”

“If he did, he did it half an hour ago. And I can’t- oh great gods. That idiot man has gone off to reconnoiter. Alone!” Nancy clamped her lips shut rather than say what she wanted to say about Robert Singer, Lore Speaker, and Master Jackass. One hope remained and she asked Tuesday, “Can you see if he took a cousin?” 

 

“You know how he feels about moving mass that far. He doesn’t give them credit, the cousins, for what they can do on their own.”

 

“We need to find him. It’s not safe out there, even for a person as experienced as Bobby.” 

 

“Nancy, wait for ten minutes. Then we ask for help. I don’t want him getting crotchety because he thinks we don’t trust him.”

 

Nancy smiled a bit. “He’ll be crotchety for some other reason, then. I wonder where he’s gone?” Her smile faded and she stared off into the dark, searching.

 

“Ten minutes.” Tuesday waited until Nancy nodded and then set another pot of coffee on to perk.

 

 

****

 

Bobby hobbled back through the Otherwhen as quickly and quietly as he could, half- stepping down a plane and then back up, dodging out of the nearest to his universe and resting for a few seconds. Not a word did he say, and he panted as silently as he could, mouth wide open, breath barely puffing out. 

 

The ragged cut on the side of his head hurt and he felt dizzy, the sensation deepened by the need to travel quickly across the uneven terrain of the Otherwhen. A soft snap behind him froze his blood, and he turned slowly.

 

To find the crow girls. Their usually cheerful faces pinched with worry, they walked toward him quickly. Unnerved, he shook his head and stepped back. “Maida, he doesn’t think we’re us.”

 

“I told you he wouldn’t. Bobby Lore Speaker, I’m Zia. This is Maida. Nancy and Tuesday have asked for help. Coyote stands defending the gate.”

 

_Gwisga t bod’n angiriol, o lew. Lucius ‘r reibia wedi anfon ni atat.”_ Bobby nodded tersely and replied: _“’m ddioich ato a atat. Blesio ca ni oddi hon chyflea.”_

 

Behind them, the sound of footfalls came clear and sharp. Hearing excellent in home time, Bobby’s sharpened to almost painfully acute in parts of the Otherwhen.

 

A rustling of wings greeted his request, and he shut his eyes, not wanting to see their route over the deep russet woodland in which he’d hid himself. Warmth, Lucius Raven-sent he knew, enfolded him as they slipped through the smallest possible space Between and settled to the ground behind the Impala.

 

“We’ll stand the watch tonight, Lion.” Bobby glanced up and saw Dale stroll out of the wood. Coyote cocked his head and examined the hunter for damage. “Get inside. Nancy and Tuesday are waiting.”

 

Bobby nodded and dragged his tired body toward the cabin, his nerves still afire and his head hurting where it didn’t ache, bleeding stopped, but still close to the surface. Nancy took one look at him and tightened her lips rather than say what she was obviously thinking. “Bobby?” Tuesday murmured. 

 

“Everything’s torn all to hell across the planes that I could access – all of them, even the ones that don’t gate to this universe directly. Shit, Nancy! That hurt!”

 

“No! Alcohol in an open wound hurting? What will the neighbors think?”

 

He sat still and let Nancy bandage his head, perhaps the clearest sign that he was hurt more than he was willing to let on. Once the elder sister had finished cleaning and dressing his injury, she sat opposite him on one of the tall breakfast stools. Tuesday grabbed a corner of counter and sat down. 

 

“Talk.”

 

“I headed back the way we came here. That way’s closed – the terrain has been moved by something. I kept pretty much to the shadows, but a couple of whatever the hell they were that were guarding the step gates caught sight of me-“

 

“Whatever they weres?” 

 

“I have no idea what the hell whoever has decided to stumble around in the Otherwhen is doing, but those things looked like nothing I’ve ever run across. I need coffee.”

 

“What did they look like? The whatever they weres?”

 

“That’s the biggest problem. When I try to focus on them, I can’t see details. Probably some sort of self defense mechanism on their part. Maybe if I concentrate on something else they’ll be clearer.”

 

“Bobby, what are the chances of us getting into the Between from here?”

 

“None. Not the way the other men are acting. They’re unpredictable. And the whatever- they-are are unknowns. What I don’t understand is why they’re up and down the gates instead of focused on us. If we’re actually what they’re looking for.”

 

Baffled, the two Creek sisters and Bobby sank into thought as the night moved toward day.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Gwisga t bod’n angiriol, o lew. Lucius ‘r reibia wedi anfon ni atat. (Don’t be fearful, oh lion. Lucius the Raven sent us to you.”)

’m ddioich ato a atat. Blesio ca ni oddi hon chyflea.”

(My thanks to him and to you. Please get us out of this place.)


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

“Dean, Jared’s had it.” Sam finished double checking his pistol and slipped it into the back of his waistband. “He’s been handling this pretty well, until now. But all of this” Sam swept a flat circle in the air in front of him, “All of this is tripping his triggers as far as Jensen’s concerned. I can feel it, too, when it comes to you, and you and I’ve been together all our lives.”

 

“Speaking of which, when did you get to be such a toppy bastard?” Dean growled. 

 

Sam’s deep laugh coughed loose before he could control it.

 

“Right about the time you got to be such a pushy bottom.”

 

Considering his options and realizing that he’d probably end up in a draw anyway, Dean settled for “Like hell. You’ve always been pushy.”

 

“Weak, man. Weak.”

 

“Uh huh, sure. “ Dean groused. “Hey, Jared.”

 

Startled, Jared stopped in mid-step. Not only was Dean facing away from him, he’d been deep in conversation with Sam. He had to keep reminding himself that Sam and Dean were real, that they hunted things that Jared had believed were imaginary all his life.

 

When Dean turned a bit to look at him, Jared nodded, “Dean.” Although he didn’t usually do a check of places where he might be standing, he noticed something as soon as he shifted his attention beyond the three of them. “It’s quiet. Too quiet. No birds.”

 

“Hmm,” Dean agreed. Sam flashed a grin in Jared’s direction. Dean grunted “Don’t let it go to your head,” although he might have quirked a grin at the actor.

 

Watching Dean and Sam as they once again did a visual check of the area, Jared felt the intensity with which Dean weighed everything and, fast as thought, dismissed all that which posed no immediate threat. Sam stepped a bit closer to Jared and pointed out over the valley toward the mountain opposite them. “See that? The reflection up there?”

 

“Uh-not-yeah, I have it. Water?”

 

“Nope. Here.” And Sam handed Jared his monocular. “Find that clump of rocks about one third of the way down the slope-no, off to your right. Got it?”

 

“Yeah.” Jared squinted and shot a look at Sam, then stared back into the monocular again. “What the _hell_ is that?”

 

“Cave. Problem is, it wasn’t there yesterday.” Sam explained.

He glanced at Dean and, almost reflexively, smoothed his palm along his brother’s shoulder. Jared jumped a little: he could have sworn he felt Sam’s hand touching Dean’s upper back. The whole True Met thing had begun to freak him out. 

 

“Uh, have you seen any- one? thing? – come out of it? “

“If you’re asking if it’s a door, I don’t know,” Sam replied. “And we’re not going to find out. Right, Dean?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, what he said,” Dean grumbled. “We’re not going to go and look because there might be a big monster in it. Right, Sammy? _Ow!_ ” He rubbed the back of his head, although Sam had barely tapped him.

 

‘We’re not going to look because it may be a diversionary tactic meant to split us up,” Sam countered. “ _And_ because there might be a monster. Like orange lipstick lady or something.”

 

Dean shuddered. “That’s an insult to every monster we’ve ever fought, Sammy. Well, maybe not the strega. “

 

Jared smiled, but another glance at the cave entrance was enough to spike worry for Jensen’s safety. Sam glanced over at him and tilted his head a bit. “Jensen?”

 

“Sleeping. Bobby’s hurt.”

 

“Yeah. We saw. It isn’t bad. I wonder where the hell he got it.”

 

“There’s no time like the present to find out. I’m sick of not knowing anything about what’s happening. And I’m not letting Jensen within a hundred miles of danger, if I can help it.” 

 

“Same here,” Sam echoed. Annoyed, Dean gave Sam a “what the hell?” look before he turned back toward the cabin. Sam, however, wasn’t having it.

 

“Dean, I mean business. Excuse us, Jay, okay?”

 

“Sure. I’m going to wake everyone up – because I can.” Smiling, Jared made his way back to the house and let himself inside, quiet as an exceptionally large mouse. Dean waited until the front door closed behind the actor before he spun to face Sam and snapped, “Sammy, what the heck are you thinkin’?”

 

The look on his brother’s face startled Dean. Determination was nothing new, of course. But the intensity of the determination was something utterly different.

 

“That I am not going to lose you because you get it into your head that it’s all stuff we’ve seen before and go off on your own, without me- backup-to try to get yourself killed. That’s what I’m thinkin’.” Sam growled the words and snaked an arm around Dean’s waist. “I am NOT going to lose you. Clear?”

Wide-eyed, Dean stopped in mid-protest and swallowed. “Sammy?”

 

“I mean it, Dean.” There wasn’t a bit of humor in Sam’s voice or in his eyes. “Are we clear?”

 

“Yeah – sure. We’re clear. Sammy?” Dean leaned on Sam’s chest and tried to figure out what had his heart crashing against his ribcage. “Sam, I honest to god mean this, so don’t kick my ass. Got it?”

 

“Yeah. What do you mean?”

 

“I like you being all possessive. What the hell is wrong with me?”

 

“Absolutely nothing. Not one damn thing.” Sam tilted Dean’s chin up and stroked his fingers across Dean’s cheek. “Well, except for bad eating habits. And stubbornness that’d make a mule go running. But other than that? Not a thing-” Sam leaned over and kissed Dean gently. “I love you, Dean Winchester. “

 

“I love you, too, Sammy. I promise. No spelunking.”

 

“Let’s get inside. I have this feeling that Jared’s going to try to surprise Jeff and Dad-”

 

“More like he’s going to do a scream and leap on Jensen and give the guy a heart attack along with an orgasm.” Dean’s wry comment was accompanied by a mischievous grin. “Let’s go watch!”

 

“Let’s go stop it before it happens.”

 

“The screaming and leaping or the surprising Dad and Jeff?” Sam rolled his eyes, upon which Dean asked “What? You didn’t say which! I was just asking – “

 

“Inside!”

 

“Later. I promise-ouch! I’m going to have a damn permanent dent there!” 

 

The tension that charged the atmosphere in the great room brought both hunters to an abrupt halt.

 

Sam glanced toward the unoccupied end of the sleeper sofa and waited for Dean to walk ahead of him. At the other end of the sofa, Jared and Jensen had settled themselves, Jared’s arms encircling Jensen. Tuesday Creek sat cross legged on the coffee table, and Bobby faced her, drinking his coffee and watching everyone else. At the far end of the couch that Bobby had slept on, John and Jeff talked softly. Behind Tuesday, Nancy lounged comfortably in the super wide leather easy chair that generally occupied the west side of the cabin's conversation area.

 

Once Sam had settled beside Dean, he took another look from his new vantage point. He felt like he had stepped into a temporary truce among nations. Each pair emanated its own sensation of protectiveness; the combination of all three was silent: it was also fierce.

 

From behind them, Nancy spoke quietly. "Sam was right. The cave is a diversion."

 

"What cave?" John barked. "Dean - Sam? Is there something you should have told me?"

 

Before either man could reply, Nancy's quiet laugh distracted them. "Nope, John. Sam guessed right about a cave that just showed up on the side of Peak 9 this morning. Someone is barging around in the Otherwhen. We can't do anything about it from here. But the objective was clearly to cause confusion so that we waste our time checking things out."

 

Words, Sam thought. Words seemed to dilute that edginess between the True Met pairs. Under his hands, Dean's body slowly lost its tension, and Sam could see Jeff melt into John's embrace as Nancy talked. Jensen smiled shyly at Jared and nestled close against his bared chest, just listening to his heart beating, Sam knew. Listening to the rhythm of Dean’s heart soothed him like nothing else. Always had. 

 

Tuesday looked at least twenty years younger than what Sam figured must be her chronological age. Dressed in faded jeans and a grey t-shirt with a picture of a P-51D on the back, her hair braided back and her dark brown eyes sparkling with laughter, she looked at everyone in turn and waited until attention shifted to her.

 

“I know this is going to be hard, but please try to keep your focus on what we say. We need to be on the road today. And, since we can’t go into the Otherwhen from here, we have to plan on making miles before dark. Nancy, which version should we use: the ‘da-da-da-dum’ reverent voiced’ one or the ‘Big stories don’t have to be told in a somber voice’ one?”

 

“Tuesday, it _is_ a big story.” Nancy countered, smiling at her younger sister.

 

“All the more reason for not being any more dramatic than necessary. There are enough vast mysteries in the bare bones telling as it is. I think the second one.” Her smile indulgent, Nancy nodded and sat back, barely occupying half the easy chair’s seat is she did.

 

Tuesday paused for a minute, her eyes closed, thinking. She chewed on her left thumb nail and sat silently: John could imagine her turning pages in her mind. Then, as casually as if she was giving directions to a lost driver, she opened her eyes and began. As she spoke she looked from one person to another, to make sure her audience was paying attention.

 

“Everyone seems to like beginnings. So I’m going to pick one and start there. It isn’t “The Beginning”, because there isn’t a Beginning as such. You know: one minute the story wasn’t and the next minute the story was. That type of thing.

 

“Eons ago, before What Came After, there was Silence. And Emptiness. No floating quarks, no spirit walkers. Except for one small place waaaayyy over that way in space (she pointed well above and beyond John’s left shoulder) that continually folded and spun in on itself smaller and denser and smaller again, like this” She squeezed the tips of the fingers of her right hand together tight enough to make them white. “That one small space of concentrated nothing. Tighter than the rest of Nothing. I think it wanted to hide. It scrunched and spun and wound itself tighter and tighter - 

 

“Until it found out that it had to obey Newton’s third law of motion, which hadn’t been written yet, of course, but still came into existence in response to that little, dense spot.” Tuesday arched an eyebrow and wrinkled her nose.

 

“I’m not sure why, but scientists are great Namers of Things. It may be one of their most significant accomplishments. 

 

“They call what happened the Big Bang. I’ve never really understood that name.

 

“It was silent, the explosion of concentrated nothing into something else. No noise at all for a long, long time, until sound caught up with the light, which, even then, outran sound easily.

 

“Be that as it may, scientists – who like catchy names for the largest events– call it the Big Bang. 

 

“For a very long, long time, there was light and, eventually, sound. Of course, Nothing was still there, too. Light needed it to shine. So, Nothing, Light, Sound.

Light tore through Nothing at – well, light speed. 

 

“Sound, on the other hand, slowed first, sorted itself, first, and began to fall into its own sense of order. It’s a bit more of a plodder than light, I believe, not as exciting to describe. But it was as important as light in the balance of things.

 

“Meanwhile, light and all that made it and reflected it continued to expand until the first wave of reaction ebbed. It was a long time happening. 

 

“Raven took a look inside his huge pot and watched to see what might be what. Then he went off to listen to the sounds that had begun to spin themselves into songs. The great songs of beginnings. The lesser but still unspeakably beautiful songs of individual startings. The lonely songs of music seeking its counterpart in light. 

 

“That was a long time ago.” Tuesday’s voice had grown softer more distant as she remembered the story of the stories. Her eyes reflected both her thoughts and starlight: John wondered, not for the first time, exactly what the Creek sisters were. Beside him, Jeff stirred and settled, falling into the story.

 

“Another age and another eon and then some more time of both, and Raven set out again to see what Light and Nothing had been up to since his last walk. 

 

“After a long, long time, light began to fall into itself, to seek a new form, whether small or vast. At first it existed in Silence. Then Sound found it and things changed.

 

“Again. Some Light learned to look, to seek. No whys or hows – just looking. And it discovered Sound that had begun to be Music. Not the way you and I understand it – or, better to say, not only the way you and I understand it. All of the music.

 

“Some of the seekers joined with Song-Already-There and, having found their lives, remained color songs.

 

Others went other ways and became other things. Raven waited and watched. He still does. He still always will. Until what’s being watched isn’t any longer. Then he’ll shake the cauldron again. Maybe. Lucius keeps that part of the story to himself.”

 

****

Tuesday stretched a bit and snapped a very focused look at each of her listeners. 

 

“All of this was happening Everywhen at one time.

 

“Everywhen isn’t just the here and now that you can see – this place, this earth, the stars that you see at night and the stars that you don’t see but that telescopes can see. Everywhen spreads in every direction. Inside, outside, across, and down and every point in between. 

 

”Of course, not all everywhens are huge. Some are small, some have no identity at all. For now. But everywhens exist as close as a single step sideways. John knows that, Bobby of course knows that, and Sam and Dean. Jared and Jensen and Jeff, you might know this part of the lore as fantasy and science fiction.” She shrugged and added, “Strange sorts of words.” 

 

“I have a feeling that I’ve painted a picture of a polite Somethingness. One with traffic lights and stop signs. It wasn’t and isn’t and won’t be that way anymore than Mother Nature wears a garland of flowers in her flowing tresses.” Nancy laughed out loud at that particular image, startling everyone. Unruffled, Tuesday continued. 

 

“In this case, there are two everywhens that should have been a singleton. They were pulled asunder, raggedly, by some force beyond their power to resist-“

 

“What force?” Jared asked faintly. “Matter and anti-matter?”

 

“Tuesday shook her head and smiled ruefully. “The knottiest thing about lore is that it has a tendency to fade into tatters just when sharpness is needed the most. Even Lucius isn’t certain what happened. There are those who think that the two Everywhens developed separate Is-nesses and lost the Intention needed to keep them together. They drifted apart or pushed away each from the other. Eons ago.”

 

“And they drifted deep into the Otherwhens, for the times we’re talking about were still at the very beginning of things that we understand as this world.-“

 

“But that’s over four billion years!” Jared exclaimed. “I mean, by scientific measurement.“ He stumbled to a halt, as if using a word like ‘scientific’ might offend Tuesday or be inappropriate to what she was telling.

 

“You’re right, give or take a few hundred million years, Jared.” Tuesday caught something in Jared’s expression and chuckled, a strangely deep sound from such a small woman. “I know. I’m supposed to be telling you an old story of the beginning of things. But, remember, I’m not doing it in a hushed reverent voice. This is more than lore. And what we have learned from the Namers of Things is valuable to at least part of the story.”

 

Her expression sobered and she thought for a few seconds. “But science doesn’t speak to everything. It can’t define “is-ness” or measure the value of Intention. And both of those were always important.”

 

“They said ‘Intend’,” Jeff murmured to himself. John heard him, but didn’t push the matter. He was far more concerned about Jeff going into overload hearing everything.

 

“But the two partials never completely forgot the other, never lost the feeling of being pulled away from the other. 

 

“Over the eons, as life developed in both Everywhens, they gradually approached each other again. I’m guessing here, and I don’t think the oldest of the oldest can tell me if I’m right or. But somewhere in the depths of what had happened and what they missed each other. I think that they were looking _for_ each other-“

 

“You’re a romantic, Tuesday. Looking for each other –“Bobby grumbled. “Bunch of stars and whatever rolling around the otherwhen _looking_ for another bunch of stars and whatever? Sounds like a bad soap opera to me.”

 

“You are, of course, entitled to your opinion,” Tuesday replied placidly. “Even if it’s one hundred percent wrong.”

 

Sam laughed when a frown of outraged indignation crossed Bobby’s face. “Gotcha, Bobby!”

 

Dean shivered and looked up into Sam’s eyes. “I think they were lonely.”

 

“Dean, you sound like _me_ , “the youngest Winchester exclaimed. He kissed Dean and pulled him onto his lap, abruptly aware that he and Dean were sitting much too far away from each other. “Better?”

 

“Yeah. Sammy, when did you get to be the strong one of us?” 

 

“Always was. I just humored you!” Sam replied complacently.

 

 

“And for a moment in space, they actually touched: Scientists call it the Permian extinction. Lucius says that the two Everywhens were too far apart in time and space to be able to merge. Catastrophe was the result. “Tuesday’s voice quieted and her smile faded.

 

She illustrated what Lucius had meant by holding her right hand, palm down, fingers spread. Her left hand in the same fingers spread position approached from below the right hand. Instead of the fingers intertwining, she tilted her left hand and moved it away from the right enough that only two fingers on the left hand meshed to the correct spaces on the right hand. The right hand maintained its position and the left hand twisted and pulled away, unable to stay in contact.

 

“Pretty low tech as illustrations go, but I hope it helped.” For a moment, she stared at her hands as the little fingers of each hand caught at each other – cataclysm grown small in the distance between when it had occurred and her sitting in the cabin. 

 

“They spun away from each other, but they had touched and some of each had been received by the other. And a great deal was lost by both.” Her eyes shut and she thought quietly for a moment. 

 

John heard Jeff whisper “The Great Dying. Insects – all of them gone. Gone. Sea life nearly gone, hanging by a thread. Land torn and bleeding and the land walkers – maybe three species in ten survived of the families that survived.” He’d studied the distant past as a hobby. But until he told John what he knew, not the percentages, but what he _knew_ inside himself of what had happened. Until then, he had not understood the great grief that still lay in the memory of earth. Still echoed in the wind as it swept through the deserts, still roared in the crash of waves over old old rock. Stricken, he clung to John and shivered.

 

“This is too much for him to hear!” John interrupted angrily. “He has to rest!”

 

Tuesday, realizing suddenly what might be happening inside Jeff’s mind, stood smoothly and crossed the room to stand in front of John. Who curled his lip and sheltered Jeff more closely.

 

“I will do him no harm, Hunter. May I speak with him?” The gravity of her tone and the courtesy she showed were honest and well meant.

 

“Jeff?” He nodded, just once. Didn’t look at Tuesday or Nancy, whose gaze had sharpened with the realization that they had begun a story without taking into full account all of the hearers. True Met, and – what? 

 

“Sister, be careful.”

 

“I should have been more careful much sooner,” Tuesday replied. “Jeff, can you tell me what you hear right now? No – John, let him answer if he can.”

 

“Quiet. It’s quiet now. It’s over.” Jeff sighed and nestled against John. “The browngrey’s gone. I won’t go there again. Ever.”

 

“Brown grey?” Nancy’s brow furrowed. “Can you tell me what it is, Jeff?” 

 

“Where I fell once. Where John came after me and brought me home. Where I almost went again when the dark thing was over behind the rowan.”

 

“Jeff? When you talked about what had happened in the Great Dying -“

 

“They don’t forget.” Jeff looked up and frowned. “I know you think I’m being an overemotional actor. But I’ve known this from when I was young. The rocks don’t forget. Ever.” He blushed a furious red and cleared his throat nervously.

 

“I don’t think you’re being an overemotional actor, Jeff. Any more than John does.”

 

“Nope, not me. I saw that thing you pushed back and defeated,” John replied. Sam and Dean nodded sharply in agreement.

 

“They were what told me to Intend. To Intend to protect John and Sam and Dean. They had said it before. “Intend. And bluesilver-“ Bewildered, Jeff stared up into John’s eyes. “I was sleeping – no- I gave up – I think. And then it kept me warm and. You were there. Your color song. There. I couldn’t reach and bluesilver said “Intend”.

 

“He’s tired, Tuesday. He can talk more later.” John’s tone brooked no argument. With a nod, Tuesday returned to the story. She once again took her place on the coffee table, her mind focused in two directions, her face far from calm. The storm of information that Jeff had unwittingly provided her churned until she encouraged it to settle until she could look at it later. 

 

“Another age and another eon and more time spun itself around the two entities. Although they hadn’t merged, although there had been tremendous loss, there had been also recognition. Sharing of color songs. The very beginnings of Intention. 

 

“We’re talking millions of years: I know that. Millions of years in both places. And, gradually, as the eons passed, the entities drew closer again. Not touching. Closer. A half step to the left and down, sometimes. A full step and up then over other times. Never close enough to mesh.

 

“Until now.”

 

“Tuesday-“ Nancy warned. “Look-“

 

“What? What’s so different about now?” Jared twitched a little as Jensen’s hand stroked his jeans over his cock. “Why are – ohhh- why?” He lost his train of thought and tilted Jensen’s chin up so he could kiss the older man. 

 

Saying the word Intend had summoned it forth, apparently. All three couples had slipped away from the moment and into their own worlds. Already unbuttoned, Jared’s shirt barely clung to his shoulders. Jensen’s hand squeezed Jared’s cock through the material of his jeans. And Jensen’s own crotch had begun to swell again.

 

In the pulsing read and flame orange of the moment, no one heard the story stopping. Jensen, his jeans open and his chest bare, arched against Jared, wanting them together again.

 

“Okay, you two. Try to hold off for a little while longer.”

 

“No. Can’t. Don’t want to!” Jared snapped. Bobby sat back, startled. 

 

“John? You can do it,” Jeff murmured. “You’re eldest color song. Speak to Jared’s.”

 

Tuesday sat silent and watched as John listened to something that Jeff whispered into his ear. 

 

John’s eyes shut and his breathing slowed while Jeff whispered to him. Tuesday caught the word “Remember?” and saw John nod. She didn’t hold out any hope that the oldest Winchester could control the other pairs. He was too new to True Meeting himself.

 

Jared, cock clear of his boxers, tilted his head to one side, clearly hearing something. For a few seconds, he listened, head shaking “no” although he remained mute. If anything, his erection stiffened. Jensen settled himself straddling Jared’s lap, his own cock brushing Jared’s. Jared licked Jensen’s unbuttoned shirt away from his chest and nuzzled the other man’s nipples before he licked them one and then the other with the flat of his tongue. Tasting. Claiming. 

 

And then –Jared’s color song wrapped around Jensen’s younger one and cloaked both of them from other eyes. John and Jeff sank back onto their places on the couch, laying down beside each other, kissing gently: their spirits danced with those of the younger men, but John’s color song, being eldest, responded to John’s need ,which was to care for Jeff and his frail song, still barely old enough to be on its own. 

 

Sam and Dean had escaped to their bedroom again, but the need flowed from one couple to the other and again to them, flaring and leaving them wrapped in each other’s arms and legs, oblivious to anyone but themselves. Part of Dean’s mind noticed that and worried. For two nanoseconds. Then Sam’s belly and pubic hair caressed his skin and he bucked hard up against Sam’s balls, rubbing them and rutting, wanting Sam in him again. Nownownow and nothing else mattered. “Baby, I’m here. I’ll get you-damn you’re hot! I’ll get you there-“Sam moaned. Dean shook his head and pushed Sam back and down, slicking up his lover’s dick and lowering himself steadily down it, not going slow, although it must have hurt. 

 

Sam watched his lover ride him, raising himself and slamming himself down on his baby brother’s thick erection, twisting a little and whining as San thrust up into him. Liberally coating Dean’s erection with Dean’s precome and spit, Sam pumped Dean’s length bringing both of them toward climax at the same instant. Something shifted, however, and he realized through the haze of joining that Dean truly wanted –. 

 

Abruptly, Sam rolled over and changed positions, opening himself and relaxing as much as he could, then lowering himself onto Dean’s swollen cock, sliding down its length and burying Dean’s dick in his ass almost before Dean knew what had happened. After the first shock, Dean took the moment over, stroking the length of Sam’s erection and sliding Sam’s balls across his fingertips. Sam came like he had as a teen ager, circling his hips around Dean’s dick in his ass for friction. Driven half out of his mind with need, Dean pushed up against Sam, searched until he found the last bit of pressure he needed and blew himself apart filling Sam with his come. Loudly.

 

“Does anyone have any idea what we’re going to do about this?” Nancy asked.

 

“Not a clue,” Bobby responded.

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note: Lucius and his great pot are part of the imagination of Charles de Lint. The Otherwhen owes its basics to Charles de Lint, with me stumbling about a bit in side and in the gateways.


	20. Chapter 19

Author’s Note: Sophie Etoile, the Kelladys, Mabon, Newford are courtesy of Charles de Lint. I have greatly abridged the story of Mr. Truepenny and his Emporium in order to illustrate something else altogether. Everything else done by Mr. deLint’s characters is a product of my oddball imagination.

 

 

****

 

 

“We have to get on the road, Bobby. We’re losing daylight, and traveling at night isn’t something I want to try while they’re as unstable as they are. They’re still trying to establish their bonds. If Sam and Dean hadn’t already been met for this long, I don’t know if there would be even a faint chance of getting to Newford.“Nancy frowned as she considered their options and came up with only bad or worse ones. “We may have to try the Otherwhen, no matter what’s at the gates.”

 

“Nancy, if I thought there was a chance going that way, I’d say yes in a minute. What scares the hell out of me is what I saw when I was reconnoiterin’ out there. Pieces of the Otherscape that were there when we got here, a whole chunk of it pushed half into another place, patches on the parts that had been broken. Otherscape is healing itself, but it’s still too dangerous to try to navigate. What we were used to seeing and walking isn’t there anymore. Or not yet. 

And the whatever they ares? We can’t fight what we don’t understand. “ Bobby stated flatly. 

 

Something bothered him, even as he said that. Something that had been nagging at him ever since he’d returned from his walk about. “I’d almost swear–“he thought out loud. “But it doesn’t hang together,” he answered himself back. “Damnit! Well, there ain’t no time to sit and think. I can do that on the road. Let’s get ‘em up out of dreamland. If they’re gonna be useless, then they’re gonna be useless and conscious.”

 

“Bobby, you and Nancy get to making food: they’ll be starved. Let me do the waking up. I’m just a little less – hmmm- intense? Yup, intense than you two.” Tuesday cocked an eyebrow at both of “you two” and smiled, knowing that she was right, after all. She managed to waken Jared and Jensen and encourage them off the couch and into the shower in John and Jeff’s bathroom. Then, far more cautiously, because John’s color song still stood guard over the two men, she approached the sleeping pair and waited. Even in his sleep, John maintained his vigilance. 

 

“I will do them no harm.” she thought toward the deep green and gold aura that shielded silver and blue and Jeff. 

 

Slowly, the color of the green lightened and the song softened. 

 

“John?”

John opened his eyes and squinted. His back was to the great room, and, for a minute, the idea of craning his neck to look over his should sounded much too uncomfortable to try. “John, can you come back now?”

“Tuesday – Jeff? Baby boy, are you all right?” John gathered Jeff closer and stroked the side of his face.

 

“If you’re here.” Jeff answered groggily. He yawned and opened his eyes, nodded when John kissed his temple. “Still sleepy.”

 

“Rest for now. You’re safe.” John tilted his head toward Tuesday in silent questioning. 

“We need to finish talking. And leave here before the end of the day. John, he’s safe with you close by. Let him sleep if he can, but I need you awake.” Tuesday weighed every part of John’s reactions to her words. “He’ll be safe, Hunter. He’s right with you.”

 

****

 

The smell of coffee clambered through the heavy cobwebs of sleep and woke Sam. He heard Tuesday and his dad’s voices through a haze of sated emotions and had to blink for a moment to recall where he was. After glancing quickly down at Dean, he rolled out of bed and found his way by touch to the bathroom. Coffee - coffee after a shower was the only thought in his head. Ten minutes later, he opened their bedroom door and looked out

Rumpled and, from the looks of things, grumpy, John stopped swallowing his coffee and glanced up at his son. “Is Dean all right?”

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah.” He glanced off to his side and down. Quietly, Sam walked over to look over the back of the couch. Jeff’s hand rested on John’s thigh and he’d pushed himself as close to John as he could get without climbing inside.

 

“Got it, dad.”

 

Jensen staggered out of John and Jeff’s bedroom, Jared tagging right behind him. Their shower had been brief, and they were so tired they leaned on each other physically. Gratefully, they accepted the mugs of hot coffee and large sandwiches from Nancy, who had, it seemed, earned an advanced degree in manufacturing huge meals out of exceptionally bare bones ingredients.

 

Before John could actually ask the question, Tuesday supplied the answer. “True meeting.” 

 

The tone of her voice was completely matter of fact, as if she was relaying a phone number. “That’s what’s happening to you and Jeff and Jared and Jensen and, to a slightly lesser extent because they’ve been True Met for so long, to Sam and Dean.” John’s eyebrows arched. He’d heard Sam and Dean over the months and years and for the life of him couldn’t call what he’d heard recently anything _like_ a “lesser extent”. 

 

“How long is _this_ going to happen? I’m not complaining, but it’s a huge problem. When it isn’t-“John stumbled to a stop, his face red.

 

Tuesday looked to Sam, who smiled and replied, “For the next few months, Dad. Forever, although less – uhm – frequently than right now. We were so damn tired most of the time the first couple of years. In a very good way, mind you.” Sam laughed softly and glanced over his shoulder, picturing Dean curled up under the blankets in the adjacent bed room. 

 

“This isn’t any time for us to be – well-“John found himself arguing with his own words. “And we can risk stepping any way at all?”

 

“Not from here, John. I tried every place I know and there isn’t one that doesn’t have something near it.” Bobby shook his head and frowned, wanting nothing more than to come up with a quick way back to Newford. To Tamson House before someone else attempted to claim it.

 

“And Bobby knows places we don’t know.” Nancy added the words before John say a word. “We use the roads in this when for at least awhile. There are problems with doing that, but we’ll at least see things coming before they hit us.”

 

“ _That sounds hopeful,_ ” John snapped. “He’s been hurt too much! I don’t want him in any more danger, dammit!” The look that Bobby gave him and the indulgent smiles that, despite their best efforts, refused to stay off Nancy and Tuesday’s faces served only to make him shorter tempered.

 

 

Dean heard voices and dragged his eyes open. “Sammy? Sammy!” he called when he realized that his brother wasn’t laying beside him or in the bathroom. He snatched his knife from under his pillow and rolled out of bed, landing softly. Looking for whatever had taken Sam. When he recognized Sam’s voice amid those speaking in the great room, he straightened up and flushed, relieved that Sammy hadn’t witnessed his slightly overprotective reactions.

 

Sam heard Dean’s call and beat feet for their bedroom. “Dean! I’m here. Everything’s okay.” 

 

Dean looked fit to murder someone. “Sam, dammit! Don’t leave like that! Anything could have happened! Why didn’t you wake me –“Sam’s lips on his strangled the rest of his complaints. Laughing a little, Sam broke the kiss and nuzzled Dean’s neck, soothing him.

 

“You _do_ remember you when you’re sound asleep, right? If you don’t, I can remind you. “ He mimicked Dean’s slack jawed expression, flopping his head back and snoring for emphasis. “Look familiar?”

 

“Sam, this is completely weird. Baby, I was afraid you were hurt. And I knew you were okay at the same time. I don’t like the way this is feeling. Let me piss and wake up. Uh...” 

 

“I’m staying here, Dean. Not going anywhere without you.” Sam tipped Dean’s chin up and kissed his lips gently. “Brush your teeth, okay?

 

“Hey!!!! Yeah, yeah, all right-“ 

 

****

 

Tuesday would have liked to continue the history of True Meeting, but she knew that the story would still be there to be told after they’d left Breckenridge. There were things that the six men needed to hear before they started.

 

“Someday, when I have a morning and half an afternoon, I’ll tell you the short version of what’s been happening over the last seven million or so years, but right now we have to deal with the immediate past. Yours”-this to Sam, John, and Dean- “and yours” – to Jared, Jensen and Jeff. 

 

For just a few seconds, she stopped speaking as a thought skittered across her mind. Her eyes widened just a little, but she resolutely stored the notion away in a mental compartment to think about later.

 

“So, True Meeting - 

 

“There were some hints of a change a few years ago. It wasn’t anything we could identify beyond any doubt. The Oak King’s daughter, Meran Kellady, found herself in a small town in a place that’s not on our map: New Hampshire. People on five continents were being haunted by _bean sidhe_ for no discernable reason. Confused humans drifted and became caught in the Otherwhen: not all of those ended well. And there are dozens of other little things that began to add up to one very large scenario.

 

“ Dean, you and Sam becoming one: that particular moment started reactions everywhere. Alerted those of us who are watching anyway.”

 

Tuesday shook her head. “Understand - only a few color songs occupy any niche in space time at a time. They’re unique and unpredictable and choose their beings using their own logics-”

 

“But they aren’t living creatures!” Jensen exclaimed. “They’re music and color! How can they have logic? How can they choose? “

 

“Hmmm – better to ask the question the other way around, maybe.” Bobby hadn’t made much of a contribution to the story so far, but he did have a way of spotting the twist in the trail that might help Jensen and Jared understand a bit more easily. “The color songs came to you. Not to your brother or your cousin or someone down the street. They weren’t with you one day. And they were the next. Am I right?”

 

“That’s how it was with me,” Jared murmured. “I can remember a little. One day I was just Jared. The next day – no, the next minute, I was Jared, but not exactly the same. I don’t think I would ever have known about it, until your color song found you, Jensen. When I looked into your eyes – there was light there that I hadn’t ever seen in another person’s eyes. I would have been in love with you anyway – hell, I already had been since the first time I met you – but that light-” Jared’s voice trailed off as he considered his own words.

 

Jensen pulled a little away from him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I fell in love with you by myself, too. I didn’t need any help!” he growled.

 

“Be that as it may, from what we know, and Lucius has been our source for a lot of this, the color songs do choose the beings, or choose not to be bound at a given point in time. Choice indicates the presence of sentience. “

 

Jensen glanced quickly at Jared, who looked back inquiringly, but with enough distance in his attitude for Jensen to make his own decisions. The separation and Jensen’s agitation were painful, but Jared repressed his own reactions to give Jensen the space and time he needed. “Oomph! Jump on my lap, why doncha?” he exclaimed in mock complaint when Jensen sidled back over and kept on sidling until he sat in Jared’s lap.

 

“I still don’t understand it,” Jensen grumbled.

“I’m figuring that understanding might not be the most important thing right now.” Sam advised quietly.

 

“Sam, your color song is so basic to the music sung by the earth around and beneath you that we missed it for what it was, until the first time you joined with Dean. There was no mistaking _that._ ” The smile that Tuesday sent Sam’s way reflected the sheer joy that his color song had shouted to the sky when Sam and Dean had first made love. When they still made love. “Bobby grumped for days. Said you gave him an ear ache.”

 

“Like hell I did! Don’t listen to her, Sam.” Bobby grumbled. 

 

Tuesday laughed softly and looked at Bobby with great fondness. “He did.” 

Returning to the story at hand, she continued. “At first, because nothing else appeared to happen along with the joining, we only knew that there had been a True Meeting. That in itself is rare enough. In Earth memory, there may have been one other. Perhaps two.

 

“Gradually, over the next few years, however, those of us who are keeping a watchful eye out, began to notice more odd events. Cernunnos spotted in your reality, generally walking in a field or in the woods and not interfering with the lives of others, but definitely out of his worldtime. After the second sighting of the horned god, Bobby started looking for other evidence. That would have been – “

 

“Ten years ago, more or less – “Bobby supplied. John looked at his old friend and wondered who exactly Bobby was. He looked the same and he sure as Hell had hockey sticks sounded the same. Bobby frowned and pointed back toward Tuesday.

 

“Odd things happened occasionally where crowds of people with like interests gathered. 

 

“At a Renaissance Faire about two decades ago, several people swore to the presence of knights with real armor who, when approached, wore the stage armor used by people reenacting jousts. The witnesses were strangers to each other, had been standing in different parts of the list and had had utterly different experiences. The only common bond was the battle worn physical appearance of the two knights. There were also descriptions of an armed guard around the person portraying Queen Elizabeth I. At the same time that the knights changed from battle scarred men in battered armor to the actors hired to portray the parts, the armed guard around the queen walked away and all people saw that the actor portraying the queen, who had been there all along, and her ladies in waiting, who had not.

 

“At a political convention in the mid-nineties, five or six people reported seeing Franklin D. Roosevelt sitting on the platform during the nomination for the candidate for U.S. President.

 

“A 1993 storm the like of which had not been seen in centuries in either reality swept up the eastern coast of both realities’ North America. There are twenty more that I can list for you. Some of them are as ephemeral as a chess game played between the US Champion and the Champion from Belarus five years before the Soviet Union collapsed in our time. Others took a bit more time to build and unravel.

 

“Remember, in both of our realities, there have always been people who walk between and across, sometimes in sleep, sometimes in conscious life. I will not say names here. Even though we’re safe for now, the names are best kept unspoken.

 

“It’s enough to say that beings and thoughts, which are extensions of beings, after all, have made the journey. Some of our greatest tale singers have walked the other realities, some more than one other. I have already told you about the Oak King’s daughter. Her return across the Otherspace took three times as long as it should have, and required the harping of the Grey Rose to bring her back safely. Something had trampled the pathways and left them injured. Only her skill as a traveler allowed her to come close enough for the Harp to call her home.

 

“In our reality, there are people such as Sophie Etoile. She is of what you would call the ‘high kindred’: your term is ‘elf-kind’. Sophie had had a lonely childhood and books and her imagination were her greatest entertainment and escape. As a child she imagined, not just an invisible friend, but an entire street of shops that centered around Mr. Truepenny’s Book Emporium. As she grew older, of course, she became more a part of her day to day world and the small city, Mabon, and Mr. Truepenny faded into a side part of her mind. 

 

“One day a little girl found Sophie and told her that Mr. Truepenny was being evicted from the Emporium. Sophie had no idea who the little girl was nor how she’s found out about Sophie’s imaginary city. But, there she stood, staring up at Sophie and giving her a tongue lashing for letting Mr. Truepenny down.

 

“To make a long and interesting story shorter because I’m not going to draw this out until you need to be alone again, Mabon is now a very real-ish city and Mr. Truepenny’s Emporium is a place where artists and writers and people on their way to a matinee on a Saturday may find themselves.”

 

“Wait. Hold on. As in people live there?”

 

“Yup.” Bobby watched Jensen’s face squinch up in confusion. “But do you know what the really odd thing was, the reason that the whole story is something to remember?

 

“Let me guess,” Jensen countered. “Because it doesn’t have crime or death?”

 

“We’re talking about Mabon here, not Utopia,” Bobby snorted. “Good try, actor man.”

 

“Bobby, enough!” Nancy said the words quietly. The last thing she wanted was anything that would un-calm the air in the room. Mating needs roiled just below the interest in Tuesday’s story. They couldn’t lose everyone to another round of meeting!

 

“I think I know why.” Jeff had wakened some time earlier and spoke for the first time. “Because the little girl knew about Mabon and Mr. Truepenny. Which had only existed in Sophie’s mind.” He pushed himself into a sitting position and rested against John.

 

“Got it in one. Good work!” Tuesday replied. 

 

“And-“Jeff blushed and went quiet. 

 

“And what, Jeff?” John tilted Jeff’s face up so he looked only into John’s warm eyes.

 

“And- no, I’m wrong- I’m guessing.”

 

“Jeff, what’s your guess? Hunter, I mean him no harm.” Tuesday said quietly. 

 

“It’s changing- it’s growing by itself now.”

 

“Yes. You’re right.” Tuesday nodded and sighed. “Once we learned that, we started looking for more signs of a Great Meeting. It’s been going on for years: no one can guess how long. But it hasn’t stopped and there hasn’t been a cataclysm. Yet. There is a chance that this meeting will work.”

Every person in the room remembered the way she had illustrated the earlier catastrophe. 

 

“Coyote has kept an eye open and on both of you,” Nancy explained to Sam and Dean, for a number of years. Oh, there have been times when he’s been off stirring up trouble: that’s one of his natures. But he has spent more and more time watching you and, to a lesser extent, you and Jared, Jensen.” She glanced back to Tuesday.

 

“Then, this year, something happened that made Coyote uneasy. Well, two somethings, actually.” Tuesday ticked the two things off on her fingers: A red oak seed sprouted in Kellygnow Wood this spring. That particular tree is found only in the Great Forest of Tamson House. And Coyote found out that something had interfered with his powers of change. The only human face he can assume is that of –“

 

“Dale.” Dean interjected. “But he looked like Dale last year, the first time I met him.”

 

“Right. Dale. Coyote has always been able to shed and assume his Othershapes at will and I think he still could when you and he met the first time, Dean.

 

“ Right now, he’s stuck when he assumes man-shape. It’s unprecedented. Not that he minds much: this Dale person was pretty handsome and Coyote isn’t modest.” She laughed outright and shook her head. Then, much more seriously, she continued. “There’s no time to go through even a partial list of what has been happening. The pivotal points right now are you. All of you. Nancy’s going to take it from here. My voice is tired. And she likes drawing better than I do.”

 

“Draw- oh, I get it,” Nancy said. “Are all of you here and listening or do you need to be alone with each other?” All six men blushed various shades of red, but no one moved. Sitting forward in the easy chair, Nancy began to speak.

 

“We do know this.” Nancy sketched a triangle in the air. Jared’s eyes widened when the triangle remained as she’d outlined it, glowing and floating quietly in front of her. “Cool!” 

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nancy laughed. “Now, let me finish.”At the apex, she drew two overlapping circles, one a single circle and the other two concentric ones. At the lower right angle, she scribed two more, both single. On the left, two more, both with congruent circles. Pointing to the lower right, she continued. “This is Sam and Dean.” To the lower left in turn, “This is Jared and Jensen.” To the top, and her finger wavered just a fraction. “And this is John and Jeff. The First of the True Met.”

 

“But you said that Sam and I had True Met years ago. How could Dad and Jeff be the first? They just found each other a couple of weeks ago. ”

 

Jeff stiffened and hid his face against John’s neck, his trembling warning the older man just what his Otherself was thinking. The look he shot across the room to Nancy would have bowled over anyone – the warning in his eyes was clear. Don’t. Instinctively, Dean edged in front of Sam and Jared wrapped one arm protectively across Jensen’s chest. 

 

Tuesday could feel the tension ratcheting up again and moved to defuse it. As quietly as she had before, she crossed the room to stand in front of John and Jeff. “Hunter, I would speak with Jeff.” 

 

“Baby boy?” John felt the tension and fear in Jeff’s mind and willed it away from his own. He had to stay clear minded. “It’s just Tuesday. I’m right here.” After a few seconds, Jeff nodded, but he didn’t look at Tuesday and his grip on John’s fingers looked strong enough to break them. 

 

“Jeff, I know a little of what happened. Can I say it for you? And, if you want to, you can say a little? But only if you want to.” A silent nod of the head. “I’ll be careful, Jeff. I swear.” 

 

Standing where she was, between John and Jeff and the others, Tuesday continued.

 

“When Jeff and John were First Met, they came to each other in a place Jeff hadn’t even thought might exist: Dreamspace. The first dream that Jeff had about someone rescuing someone else was John’s first dream in that particular location as well, although, as a hunter, he has walked Dreamspaces before.

 

“I don’t know the specifics, and I’m not asking Jeff to talk about private matters. But the first dream wasn’t the last dream. And from the first dream, Jeff and John, but Jeff as the caller, found each other again. And again.

 

“It was always a near thing. One misstep where he was would have left Jeff dead. And one refusal by John would have ended the dream meetings. But neither thing happened. Am I right, Jeff? Is that how you remember it?” A shaky nod.

 

“He did call me, didn’t he?” John murmured quietly. “I always wondered.”

“He did, but he didn’t know that he had. That’s the nature of True Meeting. It dominates everything from the instant the first faint possibility of contact is made. Jeff fell in love with you on his own, John. He was a goner from the second time you two met in Dreamspace. He and you had no idea of what was happening and that kept you close to the bare facts, no possibility to imagine anything else. And if you’d tried, you knew nothing of color songs. They were still too far from you to be attracted by a casual thought.” 

 

More seriously, she added “Meeting wasn’t a given, even at that point. Things could have gone differently: in fact, they almost did. If Jeff hadn’t Intended so strongly, you wouldn’t have gone back to him in the dreamspace, John. If you hadn’t already been pre-disposed to protect Jeff, you might not have stepped in front of Jeff when he was attacked. It was a near thing. And he actually was able to get your name from you, although I know your hunter’s instincts must have kicked into overdrive when he did.

 

“What happened afterward almost broke your connection again. Jeff couldn’t begin to reach you when your barriers were up and solid, John. And they were that. Most of the time. You did respond once or twice when he felt so isolated and alone that he couldn’t stand it and wanted his Otherself. He even risked going as far into his dreams as he could remember and calling you from there. Jeff, that was deadly dangerous. There was no guarantee that John would have heard you, and there was every probability that whatever had attacked you might try again.

 

“John, you’re a master at burying emotions and reactions you can’t deal with. Much as you were drawn to Jeff, after the second time you and he dreamed together as adults, you buried your memories of him so deep to protect him that nothing short of a threat to Jeff’s life could have awakened them. And even that threat might not have been enough. 

 

“We’d had glimpses of both of you over the years, both of you at different times. We knew that you two were deeply drawn, but we also knew that even the most connected might fail to make the bond permanent. No one can rush it, so it was best we stayed out of what was happening. Or, rather, not happening.”

 

“We lost sight of Jeff when he was kidnapped. Couldn’t find him anywhen.” Bobby spoke quietly. “We didn’t know why he had been taken. We couldn’t see him. I think that’s when I started to realize that there was more going on than we knew. That a wild card had come into play, something we hadn’t seen before. I’m even more convinced of it now.” 

 

“Orange lipstick lady.” Jensen stated flatly. “Her.”

 

“Who the hell is this orange lipstick lady?”

 

“The one who blew up the old town hall. Whoever she is and her band of merry maids. And men.” John supplied. 

 

“If we don’t miss our guesses, she and they know about the Everywhen and have used it to move to Newford. Tuesday? Nancy? Is any of this story written down someplace where someone like them could find it and read it?” John’s frustration showed clearly. He had wondered how OLL, as he thought of her, had managed to do what she’d done.

 

Tuesday glanced at Bobby, who shook his head. Nancy mirrored the action, and Tuesday thirded it. “As far as we know, it isn’t written down anywhere. We haven’t recorded it.”

 

“Which isn’t to say that it might not have been recorded by someone before we became part of the story.” Bobby reminded everyone.

 

“No matter. She may not even know what she’s interfering with, if she is the reason things are happening.”

 

“Dad, she and her little friends blew up the county courthouse.” 

 

“Do you know anything more about her than her questionable taste in lipstick?” Nancy asked.

 

“Dad, I did a little digging. I looked for those books that they all carried. The damn things are big enough to do physical damage on their own. They all had “Grimoire” etched out in gold leaf on ‘em.”

 

“You saw their grimoires?” Bobby just stared.

 

“That’s what I mean, Bobby. They didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Or they were so certain that they were doing “the right thing” that they didn’t care about showing their grimoires.” Sam replied. “What’s worse? I found the Grimoires out on e-bay.”

 

“On e-bay. On E-freakin’ Bay?”

‘Easy, Dean. I went and looked at ‘em up close. There, right on the cover, are the words “For Entertainment Purposes Only”. When those were printed, they were something like Golden Books for the Supernaturally Inclined or something. I’m guessing that the closest thing to a spell they have is a recipe for chicken soup.”

 

“Then how could – “

“They used dynamite to blow up the court house. That wasn’t a spell.”

“But the way they walked sideways?”

 

Nancy would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so incredibly dangerous and growing worse by the second.

 

“One of our lore speakers is one of your more popular fantasy authors. He discovered recently that his words are more powerful in you reality than they have any right to be, and he has since contained them with the help of the Kelladys. But the damage already done may be far worse than he had thought.

 

“Remember something. Intention brought Jeff to John. Intention saved Jeff. Intention allowed Jeff in turn to keep John, Sam and Dean safe. It’s a power that comes from the very earth itself, as Jeff knows.

 

“And, for this lipstick person, it may be that she and her followers were able to travel into Otherwhen using their memories of our lore speaker’s words and their own Intent.”

 

Nancy frowned and shut her eyes wearily. “If that is the case, then their intention has shifted the pattern of things. It may also be enough to derail the Great Meeting. We have to leave and we have to leave now. Before she or her thoughts send something to do damage.”

 

John nodded and stood to get his belongings and Jeff’s. “John, we’re packed. Everything is in the trucks and the car. You slept hard because you knew you were safe, Hunter. We’re ready to go.”

 

“Bonnie and Hal – what –“

“They’ve been in Denver with friends since late last night. They aren’t of any help to whoever has turned all of this on its side. And they’re staying there for a few more days, for their own safety. Lights out. Coats on.”

 

Jeff clung to John as hard as he could, utterly terrified. “It’s going to be all right, baby boy. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

 

“Jared and Jensen, you’re in the car with Sam and Dean. Jared, I know that the back seat is too small for you, but you have to be close to Jensen or things will get strained much too quickly. Dean, Sam, stay focused. You’re in the best shape of the six of you. 

 

“All of you, listen to me. You are safe as long as you’re with the cousins. Do **NOT** leave them unless we all stop. Are you clear?”

 

“Who the hell are the cousins?” Jared growled. He pulled Jensen tight against himself and felt the older man wrap his arms around his waist.

 

“The ones that have kept John, Dean and Sam safe all this time of course.” Nancy snorted. “You don’t think they did that all on their own, did you?”

 

“The Impala and the truck!” Jeff exclaimed. “They’re the cousins!”

“And my truck, course. Cold iron,” Bobby grunted, doing his best not to smile. “Best thing short of silver, salt and holy water for making a bad guy feel uncomfortable. Quick.”

 

The looks on the Winchesters’ faces would have caused a spinster librarian to start laughing. As it was, Tuesday kept bubbling into outright guffaws every few seconds, despite her best attempts to be serious.

 

“I’ll be damned,” John muttered.

 

“Not if the truck has anything to say about it.” Nancy countered quickly. “Now, everyone settle down. We have a long way to go and we need to put miles on before midnight.”

 

After a quick walk through to make certain that everything they owned had been packed, the small group left the cabin where so much had happened in such a short time. Jeff shivered and felt a stab of pain as he bade goodbye to the great rocks beneath his feet. 

 

“You’ll return, youngest brother,” came a distant, soft voice. “Go well.” 

 

Five minutes later, settled into vehicles that still looked the same but that had been revealed to be something else entirely, the little convoy headed quietly onto the road.


	21. Chapter 20

Author’s Note: This chapter decided to start and end where it did. I hope it’s okay!

 

****

 

“Where the hell are we going? Denver’s that way.” Dean groused as he watched Bobby’s ancient truck turn right instead of left on Highway 9. John and Jeff, directly ahead of the Impala in Truckzilla, followed Bobby. Dean, on the other hand, hesitated. About to make a call to find out whether Bobby’s brain had taken a vacation, he nearly dropped the phone when it barked like a Rottweiler: Bobby’s personal ringtone.

 

“We ain’t going straight to Denver. We’re headin’ over Hoosier Pass toward Fairplay.”

 

“You reading my mind now, Bobby?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Don’t yak. Keep up. Don’t let John move out of the center position. Keep radio silence unless there’s an emergency.”

 

Dean glanced across the car at Sam, who frowned and shook his head. Bobby always sounded just a shade on the side of short tempered, but something else laced the sound of his words. “He’s nervous.”

 

“More than that,” Sam muttered. He unbuckled his seat belt and slid across to sit next to Dean. “Don’t like being that far away from you.” 

 

“I figure you can keep an eye on things just as well from here, right?”

“Yeah.” 

 

Jared wouldn’t let Jensen off his lap. They were real as long as Jensen was pressed up against him, as long as Jensen’s lips touched his neck or his chin or his lips every few minutes. The dark outside the car was simply that: dark. As long as Jensen breathed and touched and loved him. He nudged Jensen’s forehead with his nose and, when Jensen looked up, kissed those lips, those kind-of-dry but soft and pliable lips. The lips of the man he’d wanted since the first time they’d shaken hands. Between his legs, Jared’s cock stirred and he slipped his right palm to cover Jensen’s crotch, reveling in the warm and laughter of his color song, teasing Jensen’s much younger one out of hiding. But carefully and with great love.

 

Jensen’s fingers fumbled with Jared’s shirt buttons while Jared slid his hand under Jensen’s t-shirt and took his time caressing his love’s skin, poking his long fingers out of the neck of Jensen’s shirt –“Boo!” - and stroking one fingertip along the outer shell of his ear. “You’re so beautiful. So damn beautiful,” he whispered and watched Jensen blush deep red, embarrassment and desire mixing in the tones of his skin.

 

“Make love to me? Now?” Jensen’s words were spoken so softly that only Dean and Sam could have heard them, and they were consciously not listening to the two men in the back seat.

 

Jared nodded and undid Jensen’s button, dragged down his fly. The smell of Jensen and pre come rose between them, and Jared bit back his need to take Jensen then and there. Sweat had begun to form on Jensen’s torso, and he whimpered faintly when Jared pulled away enough to help him out of his jeans before sliding his own jeans down past his knees. 

 

Jensen felt Jared’s cock push insistently against his own and he tugged at both their pairs of boxers, wanting the heat and the wetness and Jared all against him. “Please, Jay. Now…please…”

 

“Lube-No, baby. Lube. I will _not_ hurt you!” Jared half thought, half said.

 

Jensen hauled a tube out of his coat pocket and handed it to Jared, writhing against the taller man, his cock wetting Jared’s belly and cock. Needing, needing-again, just like before, but more-now – “Not want- Jared!” He straddled Jared’s lap and fucked down on the three fingers that had entered him. No pain, just want. Jared’s stiff cock-too far away. Now – inside – NOW! He swiveled his hips riding the tip of Jared’s cock, teasing the taller man. The sensitive nerves of his entrance twitched as he felt Jared’s cock begin to slide into him.

 

Too slow – no-too slow. He was sure he was saying it, was shouting it, but Jared still held back, the worry on his face as plain as the love and lust. Growling, Jensen braced himself and started to slam down, but Jared’s grip on his waist kept him from anything but a careful slide down and on. Jensen felt his own orgasm spiraling up from deep in him and didn’t fight it, coming over Jared’s hand and then focusing completely on the throbbing that filled him. Twisting and begging silently for Jared to stop holding back. Growling and, finally, as Jared jerked and stiffened, biting down hard on Jared’s shoulder and coming again himself. He heard someone sobbing and moaning as he felt consciousness fade. He collapsed against Jared, out cold.

 

“Jensen?” The voice came through enough layers of cotton that he could barely hear it. “Jensen?” Nothing moved – no, wait. Eyelids-there-Jared staring down at him when he wasn’t kissing him. “Jensen? You’re back! No, don’t move. Just lie still.” Jared’s left hand cupped the side of his face, and he nodded once to show he understood. “Shhh…don’t try to move. You’re all right. I love you so much. Can you hear me?”

 

He thought he’d nodded, but Jared’s concern didn’t fade. “Y-yeah”. God, what the hell had happened to him?

 

“Next time we make wild love, it’s gonna be in a bed, not the back seat of the car!” 

 

Jensen smiled a tiny little quirk of the lips and kissed Jared back before the words his Otherself had said filtered through the fog in his mind.

 

Car? Car- oh good god – car – still moving. Sam and Dean’s car. Which was a cousin. ( _How many times removed? How many times can cold iron be removed? What’s cold iron anyway?_ )Jensen’s thoughts jumbled over each other like falling pickup sticks. 

 

Sam and Dean! Sam and Dean sitting in the front seat? Jensen wanted nothing more than to hide under Jared’s entire body until they got to wherever it was they were going. At which point, Jared or no Jared, he was joining a cloistered monastery. Well, all right, only if Jared came too. He’d look excellent in one of those brown robe things-what the hell was he thinking? 

 

Dean called over his shoulder “Jared, get him some water. He isn’t gonna want to talk for awhile, if he’s anything like Sam. Not that anyone on earth is anything like Sam, of course- Missed me!” he added as Sam swung a slap at the back of his head. “Hand back a bottle of water, Samantha.”

 

Despite the lightness of his tone, Dean felt anything but carefree. He loved sex as much as anyone, but this – all of this – posed a tremendous amount of danger. Sam and he had been hard put not to stop the Impala and enact their own version of the back seat action in the front seat. Oddly, the memory of Bobby’s nervousness pulled him back and kept him from his instinctive response. They’d still gotten each other off, but much more calmly than the two more recently Met.

 

And, for the five minutes he and Sam had been exploring their dicks, both of them had paid scant attention to the taillights in front of them and sure as hell hadn’t thought about the possibility of someone trailing them. “Open the windows. We need to air this car out.” He patted the Impala’s dashboard as he had done thousands of times in the past. “Sorry, girl. I’ll get you cleaned up as soon as I can.” He wondered if there might be some noticeable response from the car, but she rolled along exactly as she always had. 

 

A thought crossed his mind. “Sam?” he whispered.

 

“Yeah? Dean, what’s wrong? You’re whispering!”

“What if she’s a he?”

 

“What if who’s a what?” Confused, Sam stared at Dean’s expression, which bordered on panic. 

 

“Her! You know- _her!_ ”, Dean replied, flicking his gaze toward the windshield. 

 

Mystified, Sam glanced out ahead of the car. “Her who?”

 

Eyes narrowed, and still whispering, Dean snapped “Her!” His finger, when he pointed it at the dashboard, trembled.

 

Understanding dawned and Sam nearly choked on the laughter he didn’t dare let Dean hear. For a few seconds, he swallowed and tried to look concerned and interested. Then, forcing the laughter back somewhere in hopes that it might come out as a fart, he said,

 

“Uh-I- well, Dean, if she is a he-”

 

“Don’t say that so loud!” Dean hissed. “How would you feel if someone went around calling you a girl and you’re a guy?”

 

“Someone _does_ go around calling me Samantha.” Sam responded. “I let you live, no matter how pissed off I get. You’re just gonna have to trust that your charm and personality have saved you so far.”

 

Dean sighed and rubbed his free hand down his face. “This is too much to think about.”

 

Jared and Jensen had fallen asleep – Dean didn’t make any smart comments, remembering how much he and Sam had slept when they’d pledged themselves each to the other. “I wanted-“ he mused out loud. 

 

“You wanted? What, Dean?” Sam had always read his brother clearly, and knew that, somehow, Dean’s mind had slipped over to another set of thoughts entirely.

“Baby?”

 

“Aw, nothin’ really. It’s nothing. I wonder if we’re going to drive until we drop.”

 

“Dean? What.”

 

“I wanted to marry you. Really marry you. In front of a JP and everything. Man, all these hormones are makin’ me crazy! But I did. I still do. I always will.”

 

“I love you, heart, mind, body and soul, Dean Winchester.” Sam whispered.

 

“I love you, heart, mind, body and soul, Samuel Winchester,” Dean whispered back. 

 

Forgetting that he was driving, he leaned over and kissed Sam, gentle as he could be.

 

The Impala rolled on down the road, not drifting an iota from its spot behind John’s truck.

 

Because, that, in part, was what cousins did.


	22. Chapter 21

In the half light of dawn, the three cousins parked back end to back end to back end, the space among them forming a rough triangle. Engines idling at a steady, rumbling lion sized purr, headlights off, brakes on tight, they protected the cousins- who -walked.

 

Outside their shield, things retreated into the night. Solid footfalls thudded, the sound echoing through and shaking the ground around the vehicles. There was a smell of death, one that the things–that-walked had brought with them. It slowly dissipated as dawn crept closer.

 

Nancy and Tuesday stared hollowly at each other and then toward Bobby, collapsed against the cold comfort of tire rubber, his arm still bleeding slightly around a cut he’d taken when he crashed over the truck and into the safety among the cousins. Slowly, tired after the ambush and subsequent skirmish, they pushed themselves to a crouch and made their way to the passenger side door of Bobby’s truck. Two minutes later, they returned with Bobby’s twenty pound first aid kit.

 

Jared huddled around Jensen, who lay curled into a fetal position, too terrified to think. Jared’s voice croaked a little as he repeated Jensen’s name gently, over and again, broadcasting all the love he had in him toward his Otherself. Jensen’s eyes filled with tears and he pressed back against Jared. But he didn’t speak, and Jared wondered if he’d lost his Otherself just as they had discovered each other.

 

Sam and Dean worked silently, checking weapons and ammunition. Sam had received a nick on the cheekbone and Dean had cleaned and bandaged it. He himself had not been injured, but his whole body thrummed with the echoes of the injuries done to the others. Abruptly, he pulled Sam to him and kissed him. “Here,” was his only word. His caress deepened and Sam sank into it, giving and receiving strength simultaneously.

 

Jeff sprawled face up on the ground, eyes open, gasping for air. He flailed a hand out and nearly wept in relief when John reached back and caught his fingers. “Baby boy?”

 

“Here.” He choked around the word. “What –“

 

“Don’t talk. No-lie still. “

 

“Go – need to go.”

 

“I know. We will in a few minutes. Sssshhh-don’t talk.”

 

Jeff shook his head and fought for words. “Jensen. John, bring back. You can. Jared not-Jared-“

“I’ll take care of it, Jeff. Sam? Dean? “Keeping low, his boys scuttled to kneel beside him. He didn’t want to leave Jeff even to go a few feet. His hand tightened around Jeff’s and he almost said “Nothing. Never mind.” 

 

Then he glanced over his shoulder and registered the desolate look on Jared’s face. Jeff squeezed his fingers and struggled to sit up. He crashed over to his left and Sam caught him, holding him tight, keeping him safe. 

 

“Yessir.” Sam wrapped Jeff tight in his embrace and rested against Dean, who murmured nonsense to both his Otherself and Jeff, stroking Jeff’s forehead, caressing Sam’s face with his lips. “Love you so much, Sammy. “ He glanced at his father and cocked his head toward Jensen. “Dad – go on. I’ve got ‘em.”

 

John nodded tightly and tore his gaze away from his Otherself. Jeff’s song went with him, for John was bound on errantry.

 

“Bobby?” John knew before Bobby answered that the older man was all right. But he needed something familiar, and Bobby being annoyed was familiar. Very. “I’m fine, John. Just a scrape. We have to get the hell out of here, once we figure out where here is.” John nodded, but his focus had returned to Jensen.

 

Cautiously, he approached Jared from the front so the man could see his every move. The snarl that tore from Jared’s chest startled the actor more than it did John.

 

“What-“

“You’re protecting Jensen, Jared. It’s all right.”

 

“Don’t touch him.” Part of Jared’s consciousness registered surprise at his abrupt words. “I- I mean-“

 

“You mean, don’t touch him.” John interrupted quietly. “Jared, I’d like to try to help him.”

 

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” 

 

“I think so. He’s not far, but he’s wandered away a little. He needs to be safe. He needs you, but he’s having a hard time coming back. His color song’s too young to help, and he wouldn’t ever leave it. I think I can call him.“

 

“Don’t hurt him.” Jared’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lower lip.

 

“I’ll do my best not to. Jared, I need your help with this.”

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

“Stay where you are. Think to Jensen. Tell him you need him back in your arms, that you love him and that you’re alone without his laugh, anything to make him hear that you need him. Don’t stop.”

 

Jared’s wide eyed expression wangled a small smile from John. “I had to get Jeff back from a lot farther away. I don’t know how I did it, but I did. Jensen’s there. I can hear him. Close your eyes and focus and you will, too.” 

 

Later, John promised himself, he’d think about what he’d just said and try to figure out when he turned into an emo-wreck. And to remind himself that the hopeful nod and smile that Jared gave him had been worth the wander in Hearts and Flowers land.

 

He shut his eyes and gathered his color song close, quieting its instinctive need to protect anything weaker than it. Just as he had in Breckenridge, he thought “Let me handle this.” And, as it had then, it curled around his lower legs, barely pulsing, allowing him to see and hear outward.

 

Beyond green and gold glimmered something. Jared’s joyous laughter of a song had hushed to a shadow of itself, carefully sheltering the flickering, almost-not-there, tissue-paper-thin entity between itself and green gold’s softest, most comforting rumble. Cautiously, John came to a halt, sending reassurance ahead of himself, waiting for the orange and brown song to decide what to do. And suddenly realizing how very young the fox red-orange and autmn oakleaf brown skittering of notes was.

 

Jensen’s color song truly was a newborn, the first in millennia beyond count. 

Overwhelmed by the sight and smell and sound of beings far beyond its very limited experience, it hovered on the very brink of destruction. And John had no idea how to keep it alive. Sensing his distress, Jared reached over and clasped John’s left hand in his right hand. “Help him. Bring him to me. Jensen, look, baby. I’m here, right with John. I love you. John loves you. You are dear to all of us. Don’t be afraid. Come back, lover. I can’t make it alone, not without you. You’re safe with John, with me. With all of us.” John sagged toward the ground and Jared made sure he didn’t crash and break the contact.

 

Locked in to Jared as a homelight, John was able to turn his thoughts to Jensen completely, encouraging him as Jared talked to him. “Your song is safe with us, Jensen. Jared’s right. He can’t make it without you. And we would be less if you were to stay away. Come back now, singer. We haven’t sung together yet.” Behind him, John felt Jeff adding his own voice to the summoning, encouraging John as well as Jensen’s infant song.

 

Then he waited, watching every pulse, every change of tone in Jensen’s song. Jeff’s gentle silver and blue inched a little ahead of green gold and hummed toward the youngest of their number. When, at last, Jensen’s orange and brown ventured forward, John radiated approval and welcoming. Jared felt Jensen’s self turning toward him. Brown tones softed to gold and orange flared warmly, emboldened by the protection it felt.

 

A faint chuckle bubbled from Jensen’s lips. “P…p…ass at me?” he whispered. John’s eyes opened and he realized dazedly that his lips were pressed to Jensen’s forehead. Languidly because he didn’t have the strength to move quickly, he pulled a little away and whispered, “Jeff?

 

“Here. Ssshh, don’t move. You’re going to be all right.” Jeff leaned down and kissed John ‘s icy forehead before he turned John over to rest against him. Jared had asked mutely for Jeff’s approval before he had shifted Jensen tight against John and then spooned against Jensen, guarding his back. Jeff had agreed, because he knew there was no other way. And he felt overwhelming pride at John’s success, but he also needed his Otherself safe in his embrace. 

 

“Jared? Jared-” Jensen couldn’t get another word out because Sasquatch, Vancouver- version, had wrapped him tight in his arms and was busy kissing him Hello and I love you and Don’t leave me again. Ever. 

 

“John, thank you.” Jared whispered the words. Suddenly he realized how close they had come to losing his Otherself, and his jaw clenched as he controlled his emotions.

 

“My pleasure,” he managed, although he felt like someone else was talking. The world spun around him and he couldn’t stop shaking. “How long?”

 

“About twenty minutes,” Jared murmured. “We were los-we-“and he buried his face in the warmth of Jensen’s neck.

 

“We have to pull it together. We can’t stay here.” Bobby hated to say those words, but everyone knew he was right. “Jeff, c’n you handle the truck?” 

 

Jeff nodded, eyes flinty with determination. In his arms, John just lay shivering. “John, we have to get up. I’ll help _you_ this time.”

 

 

“And I can handle that stubborn bucket of bolts that you drive,” Tuesday volunteered. Nancy nodded behind her and Bobby rolled his eyes. “Robert, it’s time for you to man up,” the small, middle aged woman declared shortly. “I can drive. We have to find out where we are. And we aren’t going to into the Otherwhen again until we’re a lot more certain of what the hell is happening.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bobby grumbled. “We had to try-“

“Bobby, I know that. But now we know that things are at least as bad as you had thought originally. We have to keep moving.”

 

Jensen shivered violently in the back seat of the Impala. “Cold. Can’t-”

 

“Jared, there are a couple of blankets on the floor. Keep him warm. I’m going to find out where the hell we are.” Dean pulled Sam close to him and muttered, “Okay, geek boy. Figure out where we fell out of Otherwhen.”

 

“You have such a nice way of asking-“Sam smirked. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Right back atcha.”

 

Dean took the lead in the Impala. Behind him Jeff drove the truck. Wrapped in three blankets, seated right next to Jeff, John continued to shiver until his body began to respond to the warmth that enveloped him. In Bobby’s truck, Tuesday brought up the rear, her face stern, her attention on the road and their surroundings unwavering. Light had replaced all but the last shadows of dark. Wherever they were, they’d come out on flat land. 

 

“Nancy, see if we can get a radio station. We’re out of the mountains. That much even I can see. But which way? Are we closer to Newford?”

 

“I’d let you know, but this is an AM radio. It isn’t going to be of much help. I’ll call – John, can you check for a local radio station?” After hearing John’s short, shiver filled reply, Nancy cut the connection. 

 

Able to focus – barely – on the complexities of pushing the Search button on his truck’s radio, John waited for the radio to do its thing. For a few miles, nothing came into range other than static and a station playing Christian music. Abruptly, however, they crossed into range of an entire group of stations. For three minutes, John allowed the radio to continue its search. When one station broke to advertisements, he held his finger over the Search key until he heard a call name and frequency. “Bobby – we’re in range of Colorado Springs stations.” Dizziness swept him again, but he forced himself to listen to his old friend.

 

“Okay. If we can find a road sign – wait. There! That sign toward I-25. That’s what we want.”

 

“Okay. I’ll pass it along.”

 

“One thing. I don’t want to follow I25 all the way in to Denver. There’re too many ways things can go wrong there any time, let alone now. But we can head up on the interstate for a while.”

 

“Keep an eye out. No telling what’s wandering around.” John clicked his phone shut and sagged back against the truck’s seat. “Jeff, have I tol’ you that I love you?”

 

“Not for the last half hour. But you were busy. Stay awake, John. I need you to stay awake.”

 

Bobby had been mulling over the possible identities of the creatures that had ambushed them. Eyes closed, thoughts ranging from one end of the supernatural scale to the other, he went through the immense list of everything that he’d ever read about or fought or that had been fought by someone he knew. Nothing fit. Not one damn thing. It was almost as if someone had patched a couple of critters together – But he could have sworn he had seen something familiar about all of them. 

 

 

_They’d decided to attempt a brief hop in the Otherwhen once they had cleared the first five miles out of Fairplay. The need to get to the East was almost physical, and it would take days to get through to the Canadian border via car. Jared, Jensen and Jeff were absolutely convinced that they’d have problems crossing the border as well. What they had explained to him about September 11, 2001 made sense to Bobby. He decided it might be better to do the hop than deal with them freaking out over some unexpected difference between their version of the world and his._

 

Something familiar. Something familiar – “Damn!”

 

The word shot straight through Tuesday’s concentration. She slammed her foot down on the brake, apologizing to the cousin immediately. “This had better be good, Singer!”

 

“It ain’t. But neither is that.” He squinted and looked up ahead toward the faint outline of what had to be their destination. “That’s Colorado Springs?”

 

“From the sign that says Colorado Springs eight miles, I’d say so.”

“This ain’t our Colorado Springs,” Bobby rejoined quietly. He hit John’s number on his cell. “John? You seein’ what I’m seein?”

 

“Jeff’s profile?” John’s tone sounded muffled and Bobby heard the other man’s yawn. “Hold on – what the hell?”

 

“Uh huh. Colorado Springs this ain’t.”

 

“ _Our_ Colorado Springs this isn’t. But I have a feeling it’s Jensen, Jared and Jeff’s Colorado Springs.” Abruptly, John thought of something and added “Or a little bit of both.”

 

“This is a freakin’ city – not a Denver sized city, but a city. And it’s out of the foothills. John, we should go around it, not right through.”

 

“Is there a reason?” John knew he was whining, but he needed to refuel and warm up.

 

“Uh, let me see. No, you idjit, there’s no reason, other than the fact that we don’t know anything about this place, gods alone know what lives in that mess of buildings, and we just had one hell of a run in with freakin’ _Orcs_.”

 

“What? _What_?”

 

“Yeah – at least that’s what I think they were. Giant sized orcs. I wanta know everything you know about orange lipstick broad-er-lady. Because she ain’t no lady. We have to move fast. I don’t care how, but we have to find her and put her in a freakin’ cage. Whatever she’s doin’, she’s doin’ big time.

 

John just gaped at his phone. “Bobby, do you know what you sound like?”

 

“I sound like I’m havin’ a nightmare. Intention, John-boy. Intention. You _know_ what it can do. And, oh crap, I’d bet dollars to donuts that she doesn’t have an idea. Son of a bitch!”

 

“If we manage to catch her and control her, does that take down the whatever- they-are? I mean, if they’re figments of her imagination.”

 

“Only if this is a weekly television show. Which it ain’t. Plus which, if I’m right, they aren’t figments of her imagination. They’re figments of her _intention_. The intention she doesn’t know she has. It’s not like catching a trickster and telling it to stop the mind games. Those critters are real. They won’t just fall dissolve into the ether. They don’t belong here and they sure as hell don’t belong in our space. But they’re real.” Grimly, Bobby frowned. “We head North as soon as we fill up the tanks and eat something. We have to be past the Caldera by tomorrow.”

 

“I’m hoping that there isn’t a Caldera when we get there.”

 

“Me too. But don’t plan on it.” Bobby slapped the phone shut and thanked the gods that broadband and radio frequencies seemed to be consistent between the two continuums. That in itself was a sign that some parts of the Great Meeting had worked. So far.

 

“John? What Caldera?” Jeff’s eyes widened. “ _The_ Caldera? The Super Caldera?”

 

John’s smile faltered at wide eyed terror in Jeff’s voice. “Super Caldera? Baby? What do you mean?”

 

“The huge one in Wyoming. “ Breath stifled, Jeff whispered, “Did it erupt? Is Wyoming gone? ”

 

“Jeff, there was an eruption – about eleven thousand years ago, as far as seismologists can tell. But it wasn’t anything like what you’re talking about. They called it a pressure release, a venting before anything larger could happen.”

 

“How much of a vent?”

 

“A fair one. There’s a bridge over the narrowest part. Bobby’s worried about trying to get across that without trouble. If we can’t use the bridge, we’ll have to travel due East toward either Northern Minnesota or the Upper Peninsula of Michigan or, if nothing else works, New York State. We’ll cross into Canada from there.”

 

“John? What else is different?”

For just a second, John stared at Jeff, as comprehension hit him. “I don’t know, baby boy. I just don’t know.”

 

The vehicles slowed as they entered Colorado Springs. “John, see if you can find anything familiar, someplace we can stop to eat.”

 

The Golden Arches gleamed in the afternoon sun, beacons to the weary traveler. Bobby’s face screwed up, and he muttered, “With our luck, McDonald’s is everywhere. “

 

“Bobby, there’s a restaurant across from the McDonalds. Maybe we should try there.” John sounded wary. “Look at the plates on the cars. There’s not a sign of mountains on them.”

 

“Not on all the cars. And a change in license plates isn’t that big a deal.”

 

“Dad? Are we stopping pretty soon? Jensen’s freezing. I bet you’re not far off.”

 

“John, let me talk to Sam.” Jeff skillfully retrieved the phone from John. “Sam? How about the McDonald’s?”

 

“Yeah. Sure. No problem. But why there?”

 

“We’re thinking it’s safe. I don’t mean food wise. But there shouldn’t be a problem with the restaurant taking our money or anything.”

 

“Crap, I hadn’t thought of that. But a freakin’ McDonald’s? “

 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, dude.” John glanced over at Jeff and smirked. 

 

“Dude?”

 

“Yup! I’m driving a truck and this is the West, therefore ‘dude’.” Jeff nodded sharply and nearly sent the truck into the next lane. Displaying an incredible amount of composure, John didn’t grab for the wheel or say anything about how much he wished he’d never let Jeff drive. Jeff handled the maneuver with quiet confidence and even reached over to pat John’s knee reassuringly. John just humphed and stared out at the scenery rolling by. As soon as suburbs morphed to city, he stared around, trying to fit the Colorado Springs that he knew into the place they drove through. Although the entire city was located at least twenty miles northwest of “his” Colorado Springs, no one seemed to notice it. Traffic moved along steadily, and folk on the sidewalks seemed no more or less stressed than anyone would be on a nice day. 

 

“Don’t miss the turn,” John reminded him. He glanced at his reflection in the side view mirror and sighed. “And oh hell do we look like something the cat dragged in and forgot to drag back out. Damn!”

 

The cousins actually turned off when Tuesday, Dean and Jeff pulled their keys from their ignitions. But Jeff could feel the uneasiness just under their metal skins. He watched John attempting to rub circulation back into his limbs and frowned. Jensen clung to Jared like a leech, only slightly better off than John. They needed food. About to ask Sam to bring along their maps, Jeff nodded when Sam held up the folder. 

 

“Let’s get in there and grab tables.” Dean spoke quietly, but with a hunter’s authority. He slipped to the back of the little group, having nodded Sam toward the front. Tired and a little bloodied, they strode into the shining spotlessness of the McDonald’s, causing people exiting via the same door to take a step back away from what seemed to be a gang of bikers without bikes.

 

Bobby slid into a corner booth and sank back, eyes shut, head throbbing. Across from him, Nancy and Tuesday kept an eye out for any more signs that he was getting worse. “I’m fine. Stop starin’ at me like I’m going to dissolve.” The fact that Bobby sounded more like a snarling mountain lion than an injured man proved to be oddly comforting.

 

As soon as the worst of their hunger had been appeased, the travelers looked around themselves. Their folding money had been accepted without any problems, so Sam decided to risk getting a local paper, hoping that the coins had remained the same as well. And not liking anything about worrying about stuff like that.

 

On his way back to the tables they had pushed together next to the corner booth, he glanced at the date and stopped cold. Blinked and flipped his cell phone open to check it. Dean muttered, “Why am I not going to like this?” just as Sam finished crossing the restaurant and sliding in beside him.

 

“When we were in Otherwhen, we lost a day in this time.”

 

“We couldn’t have been there more than two hours!” John protested. 

 

“You know as well as I do that the rules don’t hold there.” Bobby groused. 

 

“All the more reason to get moving again as fast as we can.”

 

“And stay as far away from people as possible. We’re drawing too much interest.” Jeff scratched his right shoulder and pointed John’s attention back over it. Cautiously, John risked a quick glance in the direction Jeff had indicated.

 

Seated at a two person table ten feet closer to the East side exit than they sat, a tall, grey haired man with round blue eyes opened a Big Mac and pulled the middle piece of bun out before he started to eat. The whole time, however, he never stopped staring at their small huddle of people. Although his expression reflected only a child’s curiosity, Dean wondered briefly what was really going on those vacuous blue eyes.

 

Still edgy, he stared around the restaurant, noting two couples seated farther back and one couple coming in through the West side entry. They stared for a few seconds at Dean and then paid attention to the menu. Dean dismissed them from consideration.

 

The door to the men’s room swished open and then shut, and someone walked across the floor. The man wore walking boots, but their heels still tapped out a staccato rhythm as he strode nearer.

 

Face white, Jeff panicked. “John-we have to go. Now. Go. Nownownow-“ he babbled. His shoulders hunched and he shuddered into John’s shoulder. “Please. Go now.”

 

“Baby boy?”

 

“Now!” Eyes wide, panting raggedly, he eeled out of John’s embrace and tugged the older man to his feet. Instinctively protective, John turned toward whatever had scared his Otherself half to death.

 

“Dad, take Jeff out and get into the truck.” Dean ordered quietly. His stare never shifted from a spot directly behind John. The green of his eyes went dark with marginally controlled anger. John found himself yanked back around toward the door before he could get a good look behind him. Sam stared down at him and shook his head.

 

“What the hell?” John hissed.

 

“Dad, just go. Please.” Sam pulled tighter against Dean, his anger as great as his older brother’s. “Jeff’s your Otherself. He’s your first charge.”

 

John glanced at Bobby, who had slowly risen to his feet to stand with Dean and Sam. Behind him, Jared and Jensen filled the ranks. Nancy and Tuesday found themselves pushed gently but firmly toward John and Jeff. Annoyed, they followed the First Met toward the cousins. Next time, and there would be a next time, they knew, Tuesday and Nancy would have something else to say about being told to leave danger behind.

 

“The nine fingered guy.”

 

“Yeah. The only one that the cops didn’t find in Kellgnow,” Jared muttered.

 

“All right, you four. This ain’t a place for a fight. Keep your resistance up and don’t let ‘em think past you. Dean, you and Sam know how to do that. Jared and Jensen, do what you can.“Bobby’s words poured into their minds. “Build a wall and keep them out. Brick on brick. Stone on stone. They aren’t that good at what they’re doing. Lock ‘em down.“

 

Dean felt like Bobby was walking around inside his head, checking to be sure that his part of the wall had been built solidly. “Good. Keep it whole.” Each of the others had the same experience. The older man snapped glances at Jared and Jensen. Jared thought “We’re actors. We can do this.” Finally, Bobby turned to face the two men who had come to their feet and then stayed where they were, unable to move.

 

“You two assholes listen to me. You aren’t welcome here. You don’t remember what you’ve seen. And you won’t know where you are.” 

 

After saying that, he shut his eyes and nodded. The two men facing him vanished. 

 

Without a word, he turned, resettled his John Deere cap and snapped, “Come on. We ain’t got all day.”

 

Stunned, the younger men turned and followed him out of the restaurant, although both Sam and Jared grabbed the other four quarter pounders they hadn’t finished yet and Dean and Jensen swept everything else edible into two McDonald’s bags. Two minutes later, all three vehicles eased out of the parking lot and headed toward Denver.

****

 

The manager of the McDonald’s stared down at his cell phone, trying to remember why he might want to call the sheriff. Scratched his head, figured he’d had a brain fart, and put the phone back into his shirt.


	23. Chapter 23

  
Author's notes: I hope you continue to like this story - I apologize for the delay in posting.  


* * *

Chapter 22

 

After a stop for supplies, the small group of travelers set out straight North on I – 25. Their decision to head into Canada and attempt a crossing into the Otherwhen near Regina, Saskatchewan wasn’t made lightly. Otherwhen near Regina had historically been erratic, its landscape changing frequently.

 

Driving in shifts, stopping every two hours to stretch and rest, they spent the rest of the day on the road. When nightfall swept in, they had made the trip as far as the middle of Wyoming. Jeff still drove the truck, but he had begun to tire, so John took over at Casper. “Jeff, try to sleep. We need to go as far as we can before dusk. I’ll wake you up when I need to switch places.” John sensed a slight hesitation from Jeff. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

 

“I – you’ll think I’m stupid.”

 

“Jeff, I wouldn’t think that if you hop-scotched on the truck’s hood. What’s goin on in that brain of yours?” A blush crept up Jeff’s neck and he looked out the side window of the car. “Don’t be nervous. Tell me what’s up?”

 

“Uhm- John, I know everyone is worried about Newford and the people there. Why don’t we just try to call?” John nodded and thought through an answer, watching Jeff all the while.

 

The other man’s hands trembled a little, and he wouldn’t look at John: not for the first time, John cursed the men who had broken Jeff’s trust and confidence. Not a thread of his concerns crept into his words, however.

 

“We don’t know what orange lipstick lady is doing. And we don’t want her and her cronies to know what we’re doing.”

 

“But she’s –“

 

“We don’t know what she is. Bobby’s guess is probably the closest to right. She’s the person in charge of that bunch of Grimoire carriers, and she doesn’t have the faintest idea that she’s been able to animate what we’ve seen. I know Bobby sounded like he was crazy: giant orcs? C’mon! Next I’ll have to rescue you from the castle of a wicked witch or something.

 

“But, until we know for sure, Bobby’s guess is the only thing we have to go on. Much as I’d like to call in the Kelladys and the Crow Girls, we’re on radio silence for a reason. We’re in this on our own.” 

 

For a few minutes, John stared out the windshield, thinking, until Jeff slid out of his seat, and crawled over John, who kissed him on his own way toward the steering wheel. Somehow, they missed doing major damage to anything as they navigated the gear shift, and Jeff ended up next to John. He settled with his head on John’s shoulder then sat up and craned around to look John in the eye.

 

 

“I can fight. You know that, right?” He asked the question quietly, but John could see feel Jeff’s seriousness right through his clothes.

 

“Yeah, I do. But we’re going to follow the first rule of every martial art I know. Fight only when there isn’t any alternative. ” John tugged Jeff closer and kissed his forehead.

 

“We have to sleep in the truck tonight, don’t we?”

 

“Yup – I don’t know whether we’re being followed, and I want to be sure that we stay hidden. So off the road it is.”

 

Sam had taken over driving from Dean five hours in. Relaxed against the seat back, he let his fingers drift idly through Dean’s hair and down his cheek to his chin. “Dean?”

 

“Uhm?”

 

“I don’t want to live if you die.”

 

“Where the hell did that come from, Sammy?” Instantly alert, Dean caught Sam’s hand and held it between his own. “We’re goin’ to help out in Newford. And we’re probably going to be stuck staying with Jared and Jensen until they figure out what they’re going to do. Besides fuck in the back seat of the car while we’re driving, that is.”

 

No response came from the two men in the back seat. Of course, the fact that they had just had orgasms loud enough to be heard in Ottawa might have had something to do with it. A grin quirked across Sam’s face, but his eyes still retained their sad expression. Two seconds later, Dean had lain down with his head in Sam’s lap. Fluttering his eyelids, he allowed an “I do so love you, Sammy,“ to wend its falsetto way up toward his brother’s ears. “You make me swooooooon!”

 

Sam hadn’t wanted to laugh, but, seriously, when had been the last time that Dean had ‘swooon’ed because of him? And the fluttering lashes sealed Sam’s fate. Fortunately for Dean, Sam had, as always, slid the seat as far back as possible when he’d taken over driving. His laughter, therefore, didn’t result in Dean slamming his head against the steering wheel.

 

“Would you two kee’it’own? We’re tryin’ to sleep back here,” Jared slurred. 

 

“Uh – okay. Sure – sleep? Sammy, when did post orgasmic comas start counting as sleep?”

 

“About the same time those two started actin’ like we did when I was fifteen,” Sam snorted. 

 

“Fourteen,” Dean corrected, his smile softening as he reached up and stroked Sam’s cheek. “Fourteen.” Sam nodded a little and leaned into Dean’s caress. 

 

Dean’s cell phone clattered to life – he’d rigged it so John’s ring sounded like acorns falling on tin roofs. “Yeah, Dad?” A frown. “Here?” A sigh. “Yessir. Dad, are you all right?” A faint laugh. “Nosir, I am not related to Florence Nightingale. I don’t think Jeff is, either. Yessir. Ten minutes.”

 

“Let me guess. No hotel.”

“Got it in one, Sammy.”

 

“I was lookin’ forward to having my way with you, once you woke up from your ‘swoon’, you lightweight.”

 

“Hey! Swoons are serious! I could have fallen and hit my head on a rock or something!”

 

“You mean you DIDN’T fall and hit your head on a rock?” Sam’s sarcasm came naturally. Dean’s whack to the side of Sam’s head came naturally as well. 

 

***

The Winchesters had been intimately familiar with the territory around them for decades. As children, they’d traveled with their father to cross the massive structure. They’d been over it and back any number of times since they’d joined their father on the hunt. Most of the time, they took the geography and the bridge over the narrowest part of the Caldera for granted.

 

However, after a night of cramped quarter sleeping followed by not enough coffee and pop tarts for breakfast, watching Jensen and Jared gaping at the monster of a suspension bridge, Sam and Dean saw everything around them with new eyes. “Just like the first time you saw it, Sammy. They look like little kids. Just like you did.”

 

“I _was_ a little kid, Dean. It’s a good thing I had you there to show me how to hide behind Dad’s legs,” Sam replied seriously. Just before the laughter he was trying desperately to squelch escaped and filled the air. Dean huffed, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

 

A person’s first gaze out over the south end of the caldera was a brain bender.

 

Instead of the mountains parallel to which they’d been traveling, the land in front of them and to the north and west swept gently into a flat, broad bottomed valley. Trees grew along a meandering river, and the early light of day glinted off the slow moving water. Only partly visible beyond the sweep of a hill, the top of a great gate kept the watch. Four tall, slender pillars of white stone formed two pairs, each pair surmounted by a simple almost flat arch, and a single slightly more pronounced arch closed the distance between the two pairs.

 

“That’s the Gate of the Bridge,” Sam explained quietly. “The real bridge towers are out of sight right now.”

 

“I thought the bridge was over a caldera?” Jared ventured finally. “This looks like a valley. Why couldn’t the road have gone down there?”

 

“You’re just seeing this end of the bridge,” Dean grunted. “That valley doesn’t go all the way through. And the last two thirds of the crossing are a mixed up mess of hills and geysers and a snake of a river that’s always flooding one place or the other. Damned mess, and that’s in the dry season. The bridge’s only six miles long. We’ll be across it in no time.”

 

“And then what?” Jared felt Jensen cling more tightly to him and stared at Dean. “More of this damn driving?”

 

“Yeah. More of the damn driving.” Dean bit back sharply. “Not that you’ve done any.” And just like that, the tension between the two True Met couples ratcheted up, fueled by the still very unstable emotions Jared and Jensen were experiencing. 

 

‘Dean – Jared – shut up. Now.”Jensen spoke sharply and glanced at Sam for confirmation. Which, to Dean’s surprise, Sam gave.

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Dean, he’s right.” Sam’s gaze flicked from Dean to the two actors and then back to Dean. “We’re all beat. Jared, you back off, too. Like Jensen said.” 

 

Jensen’s infant song set up a faint melody around them. In its shy way, it asked for other voices to join, and, to their surprise, the three men felt their color songs flow in toward Jensen’s and support it. Across the field, Tuesday heard the faint notes as they grew surer and stronger. She glanced at Nancy. “He’s a healer. A peacemaker.”

 

“Yes.” Nancy’s gaze softened as she listened to Jensen’s soft, increasingly certain song. “And untrained. When he’s skilled – “she didn’t finish her thought, but her mind worried at it like a terrier after dragging a rat from its hole.

 

Although he’d been about to blow a fuse, Dean took a deep breath after only a few seconds of listening to the whisper faint music the four of them wove. Much as he had wanted to argue with Jared, he also knew the other man had a point. And he knew that all of them had come to their limits way more quickly than he had anticipated. 

 

“Jensen, how about you drive for awhile?” he asked, doing his best to sound casual. 

 

Wrong move. The song fell silent and Jensen went white as a sheet, clinging to Jared again. For his part, Jared didn’t understand Jensen’s reaction. His Otherself had logged miles without count during Supernatural, driving a restored Impala exactly like the cousin. “Jensen?”

 

“What if the cousindoesn’tlike me?” he choked, bright red with embarrassment.

 

Dean managed to avoid either staring or making a comment. Instead, very gently – for him – he answered. “Why wouldn’t the cousin like you? C’mon. Give it a try, okay?”

 

Jensen nodded shortly and straightened up. Still holding on to Jared’s hand, he walked to the Impala. “Cousin, let me know if you don’t want me to drive.” He knew he sounded stupid, but he wanted to avoid disrespect, no matter what. “Jared?”

 

“I think Dean better sit up front. He’ll have a heart attack worrying otherwise.”

 

“What? No! I’ll be fine!”

 

Looking at the strained expression on Dean’s face, Sam smiled faintly. “Uh huh. Sure you will.” Sit up front. Jared and I’ll check ammo in the back seat.”

 

“Boys? Have you seen Jeff?” John called as he walked across the small field that they had used as an impromptu campground. His brown eyes shadowed with worry, he looked around him and then down at the grass and shook his head.

 

“He probably went to the bushes, since we don’t have a bathroom or anything, sir.” Jared didn’t mind roughing it, but he would have liked to at least have a tent. Sleeping in the back seat with Sam in the front seat and Jensen and Dean curled up in the bed of John’s truck hadn’t made for a comfortable night. 

 

“I’ve been looking for him for twenty minutes. He’s not here. The grass is too damn long and soft to hold his footprints. Bobby and the sisters haven’t seen him either.”

 

“Dad? Reach out to his color song. See how close it is.”

 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that, Sam? I can’t pick up on it. I’m doing something wrong. Or he’s hurt – or worse.” His voice trailed off as he stared intently beyond Dean, scanning the horizon and then automatically quartering and scanning closer.

 

“Dad! Look – over there! He’s coming back from wherever he went.” Dean pointed toward someone walking quickly toward them. “He doesn’t look too damn good.”

 

“Jeff? Where did you go, baby-boy? You know we aren’t supposed to go off alone!”

 

“There was some noise out toward the bridge earlier. “ John’s eyes narrowed: Jeff’s voice sounded far too much like the first time he’d heard it, the night he’d found his Otherself. “I couldn’t see anything, so I went really quietly. Nobody saw me. I know they didn’t.” He glanced over his shoulder once before he turned back to John. “I saw - “

He stopped to look back over his shoulder, even while John was wrapping his arms him.

 

“What did you see, Jeff?”

 

“A lady.” He answered simply. “She was tied up. And she had a cut on her head. She could see me. I wanted to go closer, but she warned me off. She didn’t talk; she just looked at me and shook her head. But I understood what she meant. I heard someone talking, and two men walked right toward me. They didn’t see me. John- one walked right through me! He didn’t even know I was there.” Jeff shivered and continued. “She told me to tell you to leave. She said I was to say that the Oak King’s daughter bids you to go to Newford, to its aid.” Jeff’s voice faltered and he examined John’s eyes closely. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

John’s answer was to kiss Jeff senseless and breathless. “I’m proud of you, baby-boy. Dean, Sam, get Bobby and the sisters. Move quietly – we don’t know if anyone has seen us. I’m surprised that whoever this is hasn’t. We haven’t been exactly quiet.”

 

‘The cousin-” Jeff interrupted, his focus intent as he listened to something. “They sensed it. We need to be quiet, but we can pack up and move. John, we have to rescue her.”

 

“I know baby-boy. I know.”

 

“She told me not to let you. She said she’s-”

 

“Bait. And she’s right. She’s Meran Kellady and we have to return her to Cerin.” John’s face flushed with anger. “Who the hell has had the nerve to kidnap her?”

 

“They’re ugly. They look like humans, though. When they walk the ground doesn’t shake.” There was that distant tone. Jeff shook himself clear of it and looked across at John, hoping for approval.

 

“Jeff, you did really well, except for the leaving without me and without letting me know where you had gone. And for quieting your color song so I couldn’t hear you.” John’s arms tightened around Jeff and he kissed him possessively, terrified after the fact at what might easily have happened. Jeff’s mouth opened under his insistent pressure and they lost track of everything else in finding each other.

 

“All right, you two lovebirds. Cut out the romance. Sounds like we have the daughter of a king to rescue,” Bobby grumbled.

 

The cousins remained quiet, but, when John squinted and looked more closely at them, he could see - something. Almost like heat rising from the metal over a hot engine, the air wavering steadily, like seaweed in a slowly moving ocean. 

 

“All right then. We’re protected here. And we’re, how far, Jeff?”

 

“It took me twenty minutes to get there.”

 

“Do you know when you stepped down and left?” Bobby asked. The wide eyed stare that greeted him brought him back to reality in one fell swoop. “John, d’you want to-“ 

 

“Baby-boy, no, look at me. Do you remember a minute when, maybe, your stomach got upset or you got really dizzy? It wouldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.”

 

Jeff thought silently, and then nodded. “I was standing by a tree on this side of the road and thinking that I couldn’t get any closer. And that I needed to. I got dizzy as hell and then I was all right. I didn’t figure out what happened until those two guards didn’t see me.” Before John could say anything, Bobby did.

 

“Two steps down and left. He’s learning quicker’n’ you did, John.” Bobby’s eyes glinted as he spoke. Turning his attention to Jeff, he asked “Did you see anything other than Meran, anything that might have seen you?”

 

“There wasn’t anyone else to see me. Just a truck. Two guards on the lady. No one else.”

 

“That’s too easy.” Bobby muttered. “John, boys, we need to make a move before they pack up and go again. And it looks like we’re going to have to spend at least a little time going across the valley floor. Someone knows that we’re heading northwest. Even if we clear out whoever is at this end, there’s no telling what’s at the other.

 

“There’s a spot two miles up the valley that we can use. It’s just at the edge of the valley service trail. I don’t like trying the left step from there, but it’s the only place I can think of where we can take the cousins and be sure of getting them through. ”

 

“Damn yes, it’s too easy. So we stay alert, stay close, and don’t get sloppy. Jeff, the last thing I want to do is to take you back into this, but we need you to show us where you went.”

 

Jeff nodded in reply to John and swallowed nervously. When Jensen’s song ventured a little way toward him, he shook his head and murmured, “Jensen, call your song back. Keep it safe. I’ll be all right with John here beside me. But I thank it and you for your thoughtfulness.” 

 

Bobby had stood quiet for a few seconds, listening. When he turned back to the rest of them, his frown silenced everything. “Too quiet. They’re waiting for us.”

 

“Yup, I think you’re right. The road is two hundred yards to our left, and we’re right at the start of a curve around the base of this hill, to our left. A quarter of a mile and the road straightens out. Remember, this end of the bridge has the longer, less sloped approach. Jeff, do you remember where the truck and the lady were?”

 

Jeff turned back toward the bridge and thought, eyes shut, for a moment. His hand in John’s warm, firm grasp shook a little, but he steadied and, when he spoke, sounded like himself.

 

“They were on the left side, past the white pillars but not on the bridge. It was farther away.” Another quiet thought and he nodded sharply. “I’m sure.”

 

“All right. It’s not the best situation, but it’ll work. Nancy, I’m thinking we could be dealing with anything. Any opinion?”

 

“I think that we’d be better to go in two steps down and left in hopes that they don’t expect that. Pull Meran out of that mess and get the hell down into the valley. I don’t like any of this. But – “and she paused for a second. Spoke more slowly, “whoever’s doing this or telling these folks what to do, they aren’t all that aware of what’s really out here. 

 

“Let’s just assume it’s orange lipstick lady right now. There were guards at every entry at every step, from three down to three across, at every side point near Breckenridge. But there weren’t any at the Denver Airport. There was only the one Shadow in Vancouver. We didn’t run into anything until we went into the Otherwhen past Fairplay. And I don’t think we were expected there, or we wouldn’t have escaped as easily as we did.

 

“If this _is_ that woman’s work, she’s guessing. And, if I’m right, we should be able to free Meran and be gone before they have any idea. Two steps down and left.” She glanced at John, who picked up the conversation.

 

“If we have to fight, try salt rounds first – if nothing else, they’ll stun whoever this is. When it comes to close in fighting, use the knives. Silver’ll scare off or destroy most supernatural things, and the blade does a nice job on humans as well. But I don’t want to waste time fighting. Get in, get Meran and get out. Bobby, you and Nancy and Tuesday grab her. We’ll back you. Radio silence. And I hope the cousins are willing. Any questions?”

 

“Yeah. How do we know if the cousins are willing?” Jared asked quietly. 

 

The Impala nudged the back of his leg and he jumped, squawking like three teenage girls in one tall body. 

 

In spite of the danger in the situation, John burst out laughing. After they recovered from the shock of John Winchester laughing while on a hunt, everyone else followed suit. John settled quickly and took advantage of the lighter mood, focusing everyone from a new perspective. “We ready? Bobby, you know where the valley road pulls away from the main road. To the right abut three hundred feet from the right hand pillar. That means we’re going to have to get through and get off the road without stopping. You have that, Bobby? Dean? Good. Stay together, let the cousins help, and let’s get this done.”

 

****

 

Her kidnappers could have been far more violent than they were: Meran Kellady knew that. The bruises that covered her body and the severe cut that still seeped blood down her forehead constituted gentle reminders in comparison to what might have happened to her. 

 

She should have heard or felt the seven man gang waiting for her as she’d crossed the Otherwhen, seeking a way through its sudden chaos to find the hunting and demonic communities on the Western Coast of the United States. Newford stood unknowing, under siege from enemies that hadn’t yet shown their faces. She’d traveled as quickly as possible, knowing that traveling in the Otherwhen were far more complicated than was usual. Ending up in something called New Hampshire earlier in the year and returning to Newford only after Cerin’s harp had sung for days as a beacon had been an alarm that had kept her from Otherwandering unless no other option was possible. Her caution hadn’t helped her when, without warning, she’d been encircled and taken to the ground. 

 

A sharp blow to her forehead knocked her unconscious, and she wakened to find herself bound and chained by cold iron to the small troop carrier. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have smiled, for iron had no restraining effect on her or any of her kind. Over the next day, she watched and listened, learning what she could about her captors. She’d been kept fed and given tepid water from a canteen. No one spoke to her. 

 

She listened and learned, her serene expression covering a fierce intellect. And rising fear.

 

And then there had been a shifting in the Otherwhen and a tall, slender form stepped through.

 

****

 

When she’d seen the shy, wide eyed man making his careful way toward her, Meran had thought he was John Winchester. She knew the hunter only distantly, since he rarely visited Newford. However, John Winchester was not a man one easily forgot. 

 

This timid soul, however he might look like the Hunter, was not him. But he shone with a light of his own – a color song of his own. A color song? And he’d been able to walk the deeper Otherwhen. She knew that he was uncertain and that he really didn’t understande when he stood. But he had managed it. A faint prickle of tension started up from Meran’s palms as, motionless, she watched and waited. 

 

He came to a halt a scant foot from her; looking around himself few seconds to make sure that he remained unseen. Finally, he took two timid steps nearer her. “I’m Jeff,” were his first words. Startled at his openness, Meran spoke gravely.

 

“Have a care with your name, Jeff. It’s not wise to share it so quickly. But, since you have shared yours. I’m Meran. 

 

“Ma’am, I have friends who can help you. They’re back that way.”

 

For a heartbeat, she stared into his eyes and weighed what she saw there. “Jeff, I’m being used as bait to lure in unwary hunters. That’s all I’ve been able to learn from the men who kidnapped me. There were seven. I don’t know where the other five are, but I think the road ahead is a trap. You need to return to your friends and go in the other direction as quickly as you can.”

 

“John Winchester is my Otherself. That’s what Tuesday told me.” Jeff played the card that he held dearest to his heart in order to convince this quiet, beautiful woman with hair the color of acorns in the sunlight and eyes brown as John’s that he meant no harm.

 

Meran paled as he spoke. “Jeff, I understand now why I was stolen. Tuesday Creek, you mean?”

 

“And Nancy. I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” He’d begun to hyperventilate. He wanted John. John was the one who should be talking to this beautiful woman. He wanted to go back. But he didn’t know where he was – something had happened when he’d decided to cross the road. If the two men couldn’t see him, did that mean John couldn’t see him? 

 

“Calmly now, Jeff. Breathe. Listen to me. You must keep them away from here. I should have known that there was something else behind this. But we’ve been hard pressed-“Wearily, she shut her eyes and sighed. “Don’t let them come back here. Heed me. Tell John Winchester that the Oak King’s daughter bids him go to Newford and help them. “

 

Her voice never lost its softness or warmth; neither did it lose its calm persuasiveness. She hoped that it would be enough to help Jeff convince his Otherself – John Winchester was his Otherself? Tuesday? Nancy? For a moment, she wanted to be rescued, if only to see what was actually happening. A second breath later, she shook her head, telling herself and Jeff, “No. Go now, Jeff, Otherself of John Winchester. Colorsinger in your own right. I will watch you until you leave the Otherwhen. I think you traveled a path you didn’t intend.”

 

Jeff clung to the role Meran had inadvertently sketched for him. “Lady, I must do as I must.” With that, he bowed and turned away. 

 

Meran would have called him back, but she didn’t dare. They had spoken nearly silently, and any louder sound would have been far too dangerous. Instead, she watched him as he ran quietly toward the road. When she saw the space mark where he’d sidestepped, she ensured that he reversed his steps precisely in order to return to the present when.

 

****

 

John took point, all business and watching ahead like a hawk. Behind him, Bobby manned his truck’s steering wheel while Nancy and Tuesday made certain their knives were ready, if they needed them. And following, ready to take out anyone who might figured out what was happening, Dean and Sam plus Jared and Jensen checked their weapons for a fourth time. Inside the vehicles, the sounds of their engines and the thump of tires hitting rough spots in the road came clear as a bell. But Sam couldn’t hear Bobby’s truck roaring, and Bobby had to keep an eye on Truckzilla just to believe it was on the road.

 

“Damn, they’re packing up!” John snapped. “Jeff, stay down and quiet. We cover Tuesday and Nancy when they go after Meran.”

 

“Why aren’t we doing that?” Jeff wondered aloud. 

 

“Because they’re the best people by far to do this. Don’t underestimate ‘em, baby boy. They’re two of the Creek sisters. Just watch.”

 

Jeff caught sight of Meran being yanked to her feet by one of the kidnappers. “John – there.”

 

“I see her, baby. Stay still. We’re going to idle right here.”

 

“Ladies, let’s rescue Meran before these jackasses pile her into that truck and haul her to gods know where.”

 

No one noticed them as they walked to Meran and nodded. She nodded in return, but her eyes sparked with anger. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Jeff to warn everyone away. Bobby tapped the iron manacle she wore and she extended her arm so he could study it. The lock was new and solid. Why the hell did they have to make this hard? He pulled his lock picks out, but stopped when Tuesday stepped in closer.

 

“Bobby – let me” Tuesday murmured. She stared down at the lock for a few seconds, lips moving silently. With a snap, the lock opened and Meran Kellady stepped into the deep Otherwhen as naturally as water flowing over stones.

 

Still unspeaking, the four returned to Bobby’s truck. Nancy squeezed herself into the smallest possible corner and Meran wiggled between Nancy and Tuesday. As silently as they had rolled in to the kidnapper’s camp, they rolled out again. Down the approach road off to the right past the pillars of the Gate, and along an almost invisible road through the tall grass.

 

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sounds of shouting.

 

“I think we found the rest of the kidnappers.”

 

“I think you’re right. Where’s the turn off?”

 

“Another two tenths of a mile down this path,” Bobby nodded in the direction they needed to go and led the way. His hunter’s instincts pinged like an overloaded EMF meter. Too easy, too easy- But he didn’t slow down, just set his mind to the side step and muttered, “Truck, I hope you’re hearin’ me think.”

 

As he approached the turn-off, Bobby flashed his headlights and tapped the brakes twice. “Hold on, ladies. This is gonna get interesting.” He and Dean and John hadn’t said a word about their plans: instead, they’d signaled among each other just before they’d left camp. Fast as thought, Bobby pulled clear of the Otherwhen all together. John and Dean joined him three seconds later. A quick look around revealed not one, but two trucks but no drivers. “We go?” Bobby asked into his cell.

 

“Go!” John barked.

“Go-“Dean echoed.

 

And they did, straight back to the bridge. Bobby took a look around and realized that John’s guess had been right. Everyone involved in keeping Meran Kellady prisoner had charged after them as they’d slipped into the Otherwhen. Not that Bobby was about to complain about that. He tromped down on the accelerator

and took off for the other side of the bridge. Part of him wanted to go back home, to the relative quiet of his little house and the junkyard. The rest of him knew that the time had come for him to step up and be what he’d trained himself to be.

 

“Idjit” he thought to himself. “Damn fool idjit.”


	24. Chapter 23

  
Author's notes: I hope I haven't put everyone to sleep. Here's the next bit, wherein things are not explained and ends remained loose. I'm thinking maybe two more chapters, depending on what the guys want to do...  


* * *

Chapter 23

 

Not for the first time, as they tore back up the road’s shoulder to the causeway leading to the bridge, Jared wondered when he and Jensen had stepped into one of the scripts for Supernatural. The sense of unreality threw him off balance and he shook his head clear of it, impatient with himself. Jensen huddled next to him holding tight to his hand; when Jared looked down at his lover, he saw equal amounts of fear and determination. Jensen, not Dean Winchester. They hadn’t fallen into a script after all.

 

Which meant he wasn’t going to wake up soon. Which meant he’d better get his game face on. He had an Otherself to protect. “-ed?”

 

“Hmmm?”

“This is where the bad guys jump us, right? It’s an ambush?”

 

“Since when did Supernatural do things that predictably?” Jared replied, murmuring into Jensen’s ear. Aloud, he asked Sam “Is this an ambush we’re going into?”

 

“Dunno, Jared. Keep your eyes open and try to stay alive.” Jared reacted immediately to the tension in Sam’s voice. He’d heard it coming from himself enough times, for sure. 

 

The cousin lurched a bit more to the left than Dean had intended. Behind it, two bullets thudded into the road. Swearing, Dean floored the Impala. “Son of a freakin’ bitch!” he snapped. “Sammy, keep an eye out. They’re trying to herd us into something.”

 

“You think?” Sam never relaxed his attention on the road ahead and the shoulders of the road to the left. Dean split his attention between the stretch ahead and the shoulder to the right.

 

“We have the rear!” Jared turned to take a look behind him. At the same time, he pushed Jensen down to protect him. “Stay there, Jensen!”

 

“Jared, for gods’ sakes, let me UP!”

 

“Cut out the bullshit, you two!” Dean snarled. “This ain’t a scene in a TV show!”

 

Startled, Jared and Jensen did as they were told. Mostly. Jared ended up nearly sitting on Jensen to keep him out of the line of fire as the Impala pulled speed from its bolts, apparently, and tore for the other end of the bridge. John’s truck and Bobby’s had been die cut from the same steel because they kept pace, ahead of whatever had shot at them. 

 

Dean saw two specks ahead on the bridge. Roadblock, he grunted to himself. Aloud he barked “What’s behind us?”

 

“One truck.” Jared clamped his mouth shut after those two words. Jared Padalecki-babble right then wasn’t what anyone needed.

 

“Damnit. Get Dad on the phone-“

 

“Can the Impala fly?” Sam asked hopefully.

 

“ _I_ don’t fly! Anywhere! Even if he does!” 

 

“Dad-yeah, yeah, I know. What the- Okay. Wait, that’s Bobby-Okay. I have us on three-way.”

 

“We’re going to need to stall those assholes. We can make the step, but we need time to get focused or we could end up at the bottom of the Grand Canyon the fucking hard way.” Bobby snapped the words out like bullets. “John?”

 

“How long?”

 

Bobby didn’t hesitate. He decelerated to match John and Dean’s speeds. “We have maybe 90 seconds. John, take Jeff. Sam, take Jensen. Dean, take Jared. Keep focus on the cousins.” Bobby ignored the growl of annoyance that escaped Dean, who wanted Sam with him, not hugging anyone else even for the few seconds of a transit.

 

John glanced up ahead and gritted his teeth. “We might not have 90 seconds, Bobby.”

 

“Stop yapping, start focusing. Slow the cousins. Nancy, you and Tuesday –“

 

“I know, Bobby. We’re ready.” Nancy’s voice was tense, and she frowned as they closed the distance between themselves and the road block. “This is one time we could use some help-“but she didn’t say that loudly enough for anyone but Tuesday to hear. 

 

“On my mark, come to a stop at the count of seven.” Tuesday’s voice held just the tiniest bit of laughter.

 

“Seven?” Jared muttered. 

 

“It’ll stay in your mind. Mark. One-two-three-“The cousins slowed, their engines rumbling in protest at the strange behavior of the ones on two legs. 

 

“We’re going to the otherwhen, cousin,” Nancy thought as succinctly and as clearly as possible. “Please help sync with the other two cousins. The two legs have no experience.”

 

“Seven.” The sound of Tuesday’s voice faded. The noise of the engines dropped to a murmuring idle. A quarter mile post behind them, the pursuers halted. The memory of the way their quarry had eluded them in the Otherwhen still stung and they hesitated as they decided what to do. Ahead of the two trucks and the Impala, the roadblock loomed.

 

 

For the first time, John, eyes closed as he looked for a gap in the Otherwhen, saw the cousins as he thought they must truly be, frames sleekly black, even Bobby’s rattletrap truck, fierce headlights and powerful engines focused on pulling the two legs through to safety if they could. 

 

John felt out with his color song and knew instantly that they hadn’t a chance. 

 

Jared and Jensen were completely untrained and couldn’t transit to the otherwhen alone. They each had to be led by someone with experience. But their color songs fought instinctively against separation when each Otherself faced peril. 

 

The two men had held up well in the face of events that would have reduced others to blithering idiocy, but they’d more than reached their limit. Jensen’s song had nearly faded in its effort to reach Jared, and Jared’s already massive song, made much stronger in its need to be with Jensen, threatened Dean and Sam equally.

 

Sam pulled Jensen close and wrapped his arms around him, murmuring to him gently. Jared clung to Dean, but his color song refused to leave Jensen’s for even a heartbeat. Even John’s color song was no match for the pitching and yawing of the two newest of the True Met. Green gold pulled back, protecting Jeff’s blue silver from the careening of Jared’s song as it struggled to pull Jared physically back to his Otherself.

 

“Dean! Sam! Let them be together! We’re going to have to do something else! Bobby! We can’t risk this!” John bellowed into the phone. Beside him, Jeff sat still as death, watching as the roadblock trucks growled to life and rolled slowly toward them. “Nancy! Is there anything you can do?”

 

“We’re in this on our own!” Nancy hated saying that, but she knew from his sigh that John had expected to hear it. 

 

Beside Nancy, Meran Kellady sat motionless, listening to the folk around her. She thought briefly of Cerin, so far away and her unable to bid him fare well. Long years they had had together, much longer than even Nancy Creek suspected. Meran held no illusions. If she was made captive again, she wouldn’t survive. Whoever had hired her kidnappers had meant her to die as soon as her purpose had been fulfilled. Although none of them had said as much, a whisper of a memory remained in the mind of the man with nine fingers. Just enough to confirm Meran’s suspicions.

 

“Bobby, is there enough of an opening between the trucks to push through?”

 

“That’s what they want, John. We string ourselves out and try for a slot, and they’ll chew us up.” Bobby frowned, his blue eyes flicking side to side as he measured the width of the road, looked for any way out of the trap. Nothing. Maybe if one of them could slip into the Otherwhen, come back in from the rear? But the Otherwhen had been too confused and unsettled for him to be certain such tight work might be successful. “Damn!” the word explosive as it burst out.

 

Meran cocked her head to one side, a frown tipping one eyebrow down. There – right - There. The sound of harping. The sound Cerin’s harp: Meran knew the voice of the harp as well as she knew her own. Cerin’s harp? A fare-well? A lament?

 

“John, I love you. If anything happens…I love you.” Jeff choked the words, face drawn, and body shaking.

 

“Baby boy – “John didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t speak. All he could do was kiss Jeff and crush him close, knowing that, if he died, Jeff would die as well. And if Jeff – the thought froze in his mind. A heartbeat later, all he could hear was himself screaming inside “NONONONONO!” Then, pushing him back to sanity, his colorsong reaching out, enfolding him and Jeff in its protection. Panting, he opened his eyes when he realized that Jeff had crawled as far into his lap as he could and clung to his shoulders, whispering “I’m here. I love you. I’m here.”

 

Beyond his truck, all had fallen silent.

 

The occupants of the larger trucks sat motionless. Their heads leaned toward the sound of harping. Not a muscle could they move, nor a word could they say. 

 

“Holy crap,” was all John could manage.

 

And Cerin Kellady, Harper, walked from behind the trucks, passing between them, the music from his instrument weaving a spell of stillness that calmed hearts filled with fear and kept the arms of the enemy at their sides. For Cerin Kellady had come for his Meran, and he was in no mood for games. Grey hair flying although there was no wind, steps soft on the pavement, he ignored the large troop carriers and strode toward Bobby’s truck. His gaze focused on one person only and a smile, bright with both love for his lady and strength for his friends shone clear.

 

Behind him, in single file, engines almost at the idle, came seven riders on their motorcycles. Demons of the clan D’nth. Bobby saw the upper sigil and went quiet. D’nth. 

 

Jared looked up and squinted through his tears: he was a brave man, but he’d been shoved way, way over the edge of what he could assimilate. “What the -?”

 

“Let me look! Jared, I want to see! What the fuck-?” Jensen gaped along with Jared. 

 

The lay that Cerin had harped whispered off into silence, but those in the troop trucks didn’t move: their ensorcellment was complete. 

 

The demons did move. Quietly and efficiently, they went from person to person in each truck and relieved everyone of his or her weapons. Tossed them over the edge of the bridge.

 

“John?” Jeff peered over his shoulder at the scene in front of the trucks.

 

“I think – gods, it’s a demon clan! Which one? Bobby, can you see a sigil? Do any of the clan lands extend out this far?”

 

“Not that I know of, John. But things are different here than they have been. John-” and Bobby’s voice softened so that John had to put the phone to his ear to hear. “It’s the sigil of D’nth.” 

 

“D’nth?” All the breath left John’s lungs and he had to force himself to inhale. 

 

“Bobby, go talk to them. Leave me out of it. Jeff, stay here.” He turned to his lover and, shuddering, looked beseechingly him for shelter. Without a word, Jeff took John into his arms and guided his head so that he rested in the crook of Jeff’s neck. Deeply troubled, Jeff stroked John’s arms and body, shaken by the way John pulled himself as much as possible into a ball.

 

They were joined, he and John, Jeff had known that. He’d seen John sharing the pain Jeff experienced when Sam had cleaned his injured back. Holding his Otherself, doing his best to ease John’s pain as memories swept him, whimpering a little when the pain bit at him as well as at John, Jeff caught glimpses of – something. Faces? Maybe. Veiled in haze and not in focus for more than a hundredth of a second. Voices speaking, but the words either so soft he couldn’t make them out, or so loud he was tempted to cover his ears. Except that would have met letting John go, and Jeff knew he couldn’t do that. More words, not a clear syllable among them. And green and white. And hazy faces. Then one word. “So__” a part of one word. And John’s posture tightened even more, protecting himself. No, Jeff realized, John had attempted to pull the pain back to protect _him._

 

The pain radiated off John in clumps, as he struggled to hold it back or bury it. Keyed closely to his Otherself’s emotions, however, Jeff caught something else. John seemed to be confused by his own reactions. The actor could almost hear John’s voice: “What the hell is happening to me? I don’t _do_ this!” Along with that, a growing awareness of Jeff’s own distress worked to pile into place some sort of block to protect him from what John was feeling.

 

 

 

The leader of the clan riders swung a leg over his bike and stood up. He nodded one time and the rest of the ride followed suit, but didn’t join him. Tall, perhaps six feet and two, slender, as the D’nth were wont to be, silver haired and black eyed, his pupils the vertical ones of all demons, dressed in road dusty leather and jeans, he waited for Bobby to approach. His lean, high cheek boned face revealed nothing save interest in the appearance of the older man.

 

Off to the side, and away from the center of attention, Cerin Kellady opened the passenger side door of Bobby’s truck and reached across Nancy to Meran. With a glad “Cerin!” she laughed and chided “Let Nancy out of the truck first! I’m not disappearing!”

 

“I hope you mean that!” Cerin laughed despite his firm intent to be serious and to take Meran to task for going unaccompanied into the Otherwhen. Once his arms enfolded her and he had kissed her long and deeply, he sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “You have to promise me. You cannot go out into the unknown without escort. And that escort had better be me!”

 

“I promise, Cerin Kellady. On both counts.” They lost track of the moment in looking into each other’s eyes and speaking without words of their loneliness, banished as it had been by their return to each other.

 

 

Bobby knew the formalities and protocols for situations like the one he and the demon found themselves in. The D’nth would expect thanks. In his own language. As well he should. The D’nth would want to deal with their captives. And that was going to be a problem. The seconds dragged on into nearly a minute, and the old Hunter realized that somewhere, somehow, the rules had changed.

 

The demon’s voice trod hesitantly over the strange sounds of human language. He had lived most of his life in the northwest and had rarely come into contact with humans. However, he possessed an aptness for different tongues although that was not the reason he’d been chosen to ride with the human Harper. In a soft baritone, he asked,

 

“You are the John Winchester?”

 

Bobby straightened ever so slightly. “No. The John Winchester? I don’t know the one.” He knew that the demon knew that he wasn’t telling the truth. But given the circumstances, Bobby was also fairly certain that the demon understood why he’d said what he said.

 

Another fifteen eternally long seconds passed while the demon examined Bobby’s neutral expression. “This one” meaning himself “is Tehan.” Startled although he didn’t show it, Bobby waited. Startlement turned into being thunderstruck. “This one is Tehan dyk K’lota dyeh Tekyh theaneh D’nth. This one is-“he hesitated, obviously uncertain of his English.

 

Bobby remained silent. Helping the demon with English in front of the members of his clan ride represented an unthinkable embarrassment. After some thought, the demon continued. “This one searches for the John Winchester. This one would bring the words to the John Winchester.”

 

More quiet. More thinking on the part of the demon. Then, slowly, because the sentences had to explain things completely, Tehan continued. “The Cerin Kellady asked help of the clans. The Cerin Kellady said the Meran Kellady had walked the Un to find the clans. To ask for help. The Cerin Kellady says Meran Kellady missed – did not –“

 

“Had gone missing?” They no longer spoke about John, and Bobby knew that the demon had given over great power by saying not only his name but the name of his mother and mother’s mother and the name of the clan. The Hunter spoke cautiously, but knew he’d done the right thing when a clearly frazzled Tehan nodded almost eagerly. 

 

“This one has searching her.” 

 

“This one asks for a moment to speak with another one.”

 

“One measure.”

 

The rough equivalent of three minutes. Bobby nodded and turned, giving Tehan his back and, in one motion, evening out the level of trust that the demon had shown when he’d told Bobby his name.

 

John heard Bobby approaching and tightened his grip on Jeff. The tears he’d shed had burned like fire on Jeff’s skin, and the younger man bristled protectively when Bobby shook his head, pointed at John and signaled, “I need to talk to John.”

Jeff glared, hugging John more tightly to him. Silver blue circled both of them and, for the first time, sheltered green gold. 

 

“John?” Jeff whispered under the singing of the colors. “Bobby wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

 

“I have nothing to say to the D’nth.”

 

“John?” Bobby could hear them, even though the blue and silver ribbons of light and color blurred their images. “He gave me his full name. Didn’t hesitate. And he’s speaking English. And his lieutenants aren’t with him.”

 

John thought for a while. More than a measure, Bobby knew. He listened for the sound of motorcycles departing. Nothing. “John, please.”

 

John heard footsteps – Sam and Dean. Bobby explained the situation briefly. Dean nodded tightly and glanced at Sam. “Go talk to Dad, Sam. Bobby, the D’nth are going to have to wait.”

 

“Sam, wait. Jeff and Dad are talking. Let Jeff-“Bobby interjected.

 

“John, you’re scaring me. What did the D’nth do to you?”

 

“Nothing. They didn’t do anything wrong, not by their law.” And then Jeff remembered. White as a sheet, he whispered, “Your son. John, I forgot the name of the demon clan. I’m sorry. Oh god I’m sorry!”

 

“No baby-boy. No, no. You heard it once and we-“John’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, “We haven’t been exactly reciting family history.”

 

“Why is he here? The clan doesn’t want –“before he could say the words “more revenge”, Jeff found himself wrapped tightly in John’s embrace. The warmth of John’s love swept Jeff and he leaned against his Otherself’s chest.

 

“No, baby. No no-that’s not what a clan like that does. He’s here for something else – maybe just to help Cerin and Meran.”

 

“Then why did he ask if Bobby was you? John, you need to stay in the truck. I’ll talk to him. He doesn’t know you to see you. I can – if something’s off – wrong-John, I love you, dammit. And I’m not going to let you walk calmly out there and be killed!”

 

“Jeff! Hold on!” In spite of the tension that filled the moment, John smiled at Jeff’s fierceness. “He’s not going to hurt me. If he wanted to, the other six bikes down behind that single truck would already have cut off our escape. As it is, they’ve moved the truck and given us a clear path. I’ll be all right.” Jeff gaped at him. “Side view mirrors. Good things to have. Now, I’d -”

 

“Don’t say it.” Jeff snapped the words before John could take a breath. “I’m not going to sit here and wait for you. I’m your Otherself and I go where you are. Now let’s get this done.” John’s smile broadened when Jeff gave him a taste of his own medicine, Jeff’s Eyebrow of Doom almost as intimidating as Sam’s. At age two. 

 

“As you would.” John spoke gravely and watched as Jeff dropped immediately into his role as Otherself to the best hunter in their world. That’s all John could say to describe it. Jeff’s smile softened, then disappeared and he nodded.

 

“Tell me what to do.”

 

“Put your hand on my arm. Be calm and let me talk.” John’s flash of confidence guttered and he sought Jeff’s lips with his own. “I’m so damn in love with you, baby-boy.”

 

“And I’m in love with you, hunter.”

 

They slid out of the truck and John shut its door hard enough to draw the stares of the D’nth. A quick shifting of shoulders and the demons waited again.

 

“Bobby, I’ll listen to him.”

 

Dean and Sam took positions in front of John and Jeff. Jeff placed his left hand on John’s right forearm and smiled gently at his Otherself. “He has to go through me to get to you. He doesn’t want to try that.” And the fierceness in Jeff’s stare was part of no role playing. Moved, John smiled a bit and nodded.

 

 

Tehan had waited patiently. Indeed, given what he had been sent to say, he would have waited much, much longer, with even greater patience. _Remember, Te, the Winchester is known to be a fair man. It is my hope that he will choose fairly. I wish it could be me to go to this meeting._ But losing the mother of his mother at the hand of an angry (even if a justifiably angry) human was unthinkable.

 

The older human strode toward him and, behind him, two men walked side by side. Too young to be the John Winchester. Gazes steady and appraising, the young Winchesters – they looked enough like their sire for Tehan to guess that – watched him and his clan ride. Then, silent, they stepped aside and he finally caught sight of the John Winchester.

 

And another John Winchester.

 

He didn’t know what to say or do. Tehan had been told by his mother and his mother’s mother to deliver a message to the John Winchester. But which? Baffled, he attempted to scent them to see if one might be a shapeshifter, although there was no way Hunters would be calm around such a thing.

 

Then, just before he asked who was who, causing himself even more embarrassment than he’d already endured, one of the John Winchesters walked forward and spoke.

 

“I am Jeffrey, the Otherself of the John Winchester. The John Winchester will hear you.” 

 

Tehan nodded and took a step forward. Immediately, the Jeffrey and the two young Winchesters straightened and went on alert. The John Winchester didn’t look up or react in any way. Tehan saw only some old memory in the human, something that caused his stance to soften and his gaze to look farwhen.

 

“I would speak to the John Winchester alone.”

 

At last, the large brown eyes focused on Tehan’s face. Curling dark hair touched the collar of the John Winchester’s thoi framing the strong lines of the Winchester’s neck. The clean line of a collar bone led away from soft skin toward – Tehan caught himself and managed not to blush at the strange reaction he’d had to the human.

 

He could see the difference between the Winchester and his Otherself. Otherself. The word stayed in his mind – he didn’t know what it meant, but it obviously signified a great deal to the humans. If he lived through the next few minutes and was able to contact the mother of his mother, he would ask what an Otherself might be.

 

“John?”

 

“P…please.” The demon rarely used human words of power, although he knew them. Tense, although he managed to hide it, he waited again. 

 

John nodded. He took Jeff’s hand between his two and handed his Otherself to Dean. 

 

Before John could take another step, Tehan walked to him. His clan ride waited, motionless and silent. Two feet away from John, the other being came to a stop. As one, the clan ride looked toward the ground. Not a sound, not a shift of stance, just demons no longer looking at their ride leader. 

 

Bobby’s heart knocked on the soles of his boots. He knew enough about general clan lore to realize that the ride had bowed in respect. And grief. 

 

Then Tehan went to one knee in front of the Winchester. Whatever Tehan had been tasked to say carried weight enough to cause him to kneel.

 

“John Winchester.”

 

“I am.” The large brown eyes and their strange round pupils focused on his and Tehan felt himself read in and out by a gaze that, to others, might seem only curious. “Who are you? Why do you come here? Why do you remind me of my grief? Of my loss?” John hadn’t said a word, but Tehan knew those to be his questions. 

 

He cleared his throat and spoke as calmly as possible. “I am told by my mother and the mother of my mother to say this to you.” Tehan saw the confusion in John’s eyes and understood in that second that the Hunter didn’t know anything. And cursed the fact that he was bound to repeat the words he’d been told, suspecting suddenly that they would cause great pain if ever the John Winchester pursued finding their meaning.

 

“The clan D’nth has done grave injustice to the Winchester. There can be no means of repairing the injustice. The Winchester has the authority to-“Tehan paused and shut his eyes, then forced them open. The mother of his mother had been extremely clear about facing the Winchester with honest eyes, “has the authority” he repeated “either take my life as rebalance or command me to be of assistance.”

 

“I do not understand.” John spoke slowly, trying to concentrate on the present. But all he could see was Mary standing there holding their son. Saying she was sorry. Sorry their youngest son had been killed in retribution for the death of the infant demon. Revealing that the infant demon had been a child of the elder clan of the D’nth and that the mother had not forgiven Mary. And that she had known there might be retribution, but didn’t really believe it would happen. And she was so sorry.

 

That had been the reason he had told her to go. She hadn’t been in shock. She hadn’t cared. 

 

“Stand. Tell me what you mean.”

 

Tehan had relayed the message his mother and the mother of his mother had given him. They’d said nothing else, but he had done some thinking about what they had told him to say. When he’d led the clan toward the bridge, he had thought he’d relay his speculations to the human. Kneeling before the John Winchester, speaking his full name in public, speaking a strange and difficult language that he used only when he had no alternative: Tehan should have felt a wash of rage at the demeaning things he’d endured. 

 

But looking at the puzzled expression on John’s face, the demon frowned and decided to keep his silence. Grave injustice should not be compounded by foolish speculations.

 

“That was all they told me to say,” he replied.

 

“Nothing else?”

 

“Nothing. I don’t wish to die. But they have said the John Winchester has the authority to end me.” John’s gaze darkened as he attempted to think his way through what Tehan had said. 

 

“Or to ask for your assistance.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I ask your help.” John spoke gruffly, but with no dislike. Tehan felt as if he was falling into that gaze. 

 

A few seconds passed before Tehan realized that the Winchester had spoken his own language. “Say what you need. I will do it if it can be done.”

 

The John Winchester nodded and sighed. “First. You have saved us from these.” He spared a withering glare toward trucks and the people in them. You have my thanks and the thanks of us all.

 

“Second. I cannot leave these to your care. Whoever hired them needs to hear that we are alive and that we have been helped by the clan D’nth. 

 

“Third, I know you don’t travel the Un and will not ask you to.

 

“However, you can lend certainty when we step to the left and leave here, and leave here we must. We are needed in Newford, and we have to take the fastest route there.”

 

“You don’t ask for me to go with you.”

 

“No. There is danger enough here. I would charge you to keep your family, your mother and the mother of your mother, safe. Do what you can to find out more about these men and who they work for.”

 

“And you, John Winchester? Who keeps you safe?”

 

“Have you not spoken to my Otherself? You do not want to raise his anger. It’s formidable.”

 

“Ah – a mageling. I should have seen it earlier.” Tehan heard John’s chuckle and waited for an explanation.

 

“He had no idea himself. No training. Therefore –“

 

“I understand. The clan ride will do nothing to cause his temper to flare.” 

 

Except that I would bed you, John Winchester, to take the sadness from your eyes. When you look at me, what do you see?” Stunned at the thought and desperately hoping that he had not said such a thing aloud, Tehan choked on his words. 

 

“But first, since the road is quiet and it’s been a hungry morning so far, let’s eat. Will you eat with us?” John asked, interrupting Tehan’s thoughts. 

 

“Indeed. Although it’s my understanding that what we eat might not be what you would eat.”

 

“Tehan, I don’t want a meal to turn into a contest of strength. We will each eat what appeals to each. Then we’ll be on our way.”

 

“And what of us? What do you ask of the family n’shth of the clan d’nth?”

 

“Only to do as I have asked. Tehan, things are dangerous and are getting worse. Have a care for yourself and those you love.”

 

“Demons don’t love. Didn’t you learn that at your mother’s knee?”

 

“She didn’t like fairytales and ghost stories,” John replied, his lips curving into a brief smile. 

 

Tehan blessed the gods for the presence of Jeffrey, John’s Otherself, because that smile, small and narrow as it was, shot him through both of his hearts and left him reeling. _Perhaps the Jeffrey would consent? No, no, you idiot!_ Otherself – I want to know what that means. _Perhaps the Jeffrey would consider joining himself and the Winchester?_ Watching the two of them talking quietly, Jeffrey beaming up into his Otherself’s gaze, the Winchester caressing the younger man’s cheek, Tehan cursed himself for six kinds of a fool and slipped away to the ride to give orders.

 

Clan and brothers, friends and cousins, the ride had grown up together on clan lands, had stayed together through college and still rode together as they would until age and accident claimed the last of them. His mother’s sister’s eldest son, D’s, smiled quietly and cocked one eyebrow. He and Tehan had been lovers since their first contact, and D’s knew the look in Tehan’s eye. Indeed, had seen that same look in his own eyes when he’d stared into a mirror after he’d pledged to S’heh, his third cousin on the mate of his mother’s side. She was a fine wife and the mother of his two offspring. Tehan was a skilled and strong lover who knew his every mood and could remind him of that fact at any moment. D’s counted himself fortunate. As did S’heh and Tehan in turn.

 

“He is handsome, Te’”

“He? Who?”

 

“The Winchester. But have a care. And not from him. The injustice must have been something deep or we wouldn’t have been sent to offer your life to his whim.” D’s eyes smoldered cobalt blue in his distress. To have seen Tehan’s life laid out on the human road would have destroyed his sanity. 

 

Realizing suddenly that his lover could well have been present at his execution, and needing to remind him that there had not been one, Tehan caught D’s by the waist and bit deep and hard into his neck, claiming him. Again. Always. D’s moan barely cleared the space between them and the press of Tehan’s hand against his crotch caused him to come immediately. D’s snarled at Tehan and returned the claiming, smelling Tehan’s come as it soaked his jeans.

 

“D’s – I’m here – alive – here. No fears now.” Tehan panted the words, the deep green hazel of his eyes fading again toward black.

 

“Te- if you had-“ D’s eyes glimmered faint blue, fear still present.

 

“I did not.” Tehan spoke firmly and glanced down at both D’s and himself. Laughed huskily. “Do we have extra clothes?”

 

“Did S’heh pack for me?” They laughed, a little shakily, when Tehan nodded. “There are clothes for twelve in that saddlebag. No, I mean it! Rolled up really small.”

 

Each with one arm around the other, they strolled toward their bikes and a change of jeans.


	25. Chapter 24

  
Author's notes: This is a short chapter. However, it demanded to be put here on its own. I only do as the story tells me.  


* * *

Chapter 24

 

“….n, don’t let him go! Dammit, Dean Winchester, you are NOT going to die! Do you hear me?” Sam’s words and the Impala roaring at full speed hit Now together. A crash of wheels slamming the ground and the car’s chassis straining under the pressure as it charged fifty feet from the Right Step before it rolled to a stop. Nearly snapping the key in the ignition in his agitation, Sam wheeled and stared into the back seat, terrified that he might have lost Dean. Beside him, twisted in the passenger’s seat so he could touch the back of Jensen’s head, Jared shot a look at Sam. The desolation in the Hunter’s expression shook Jared out of his stunned silence.

 

Jensen sprawled alongside Dean, body pressed tight as possible against the Hunter’s, lips on Dean’s blue lips, pouring healing into him. At a cellular level and faster than thought, he repaired the damage done to a nicked artery. At the same time, instinctively, his healing stretched into bone marrow, kicking red blood cell production in the ass. 

 

All the while he worked, Jensen thought fiercely, “Don’t you fucking _dare_ leave Sam! Or your dad. Don’t you fuckin’ dare! C’mon, you asshole! Fight! Fight, dammit!”

 

Sam swore he could see light soaking from Jensen into Dean, and, although fear still clamored at him, he felt himself take a small step back from the edge. He focused all his will on the staggering rise and fall of Dean’s chest. The lurching inhalations and the out-of-control slipping exhalations were all that mattered. Face spattered with splashes of Dean’s blood, knees shaking, Sam scrambled from the front seat and around the car. Wrenched the back seat door open and knelt by Dean’s head, whispering his name over and over again. Thinking “Don’t leave without me. If you have to go, please, please wait for me. I’ll come, too. Right with you! I love you. I love you.” 

 

Jared, stunned by everything that had happened in the past three minutes, heard John’s truck and Bobby’s pick up slam into the Now. He didn’t look up – all his focus centered on what was happening in front of him. On Jensen keeping Dean Winchester alive.

 

“Dean? Jeff – it’s Dean! Oh gods-” John stared into Jeff’s eyes. Wordless, Jeff jumped from the truck, waited until John had fallen out of his seat and reached out to him. “John, no – hold on to me. Stay with me.”

 

He spoke softly, but words halted John in mid-step. “You’re not alone. Stay with me.” For a few seconds, John resisted. Then, slowly, he nodded and turned his focus back to Jeff. “Stay with me now.” Jeff forced his own breathing to slow and pulled John’s into synch with it. “With me.” Their gazes locked and Jeff leaned over to kiss his Otherself.

 

“With you.” John whispered into the kiss. The calm inside the caress stayed with them after it ended and they closed the distance between themselves and the Impala.

 

John couldn’t see past the back of Sam’s head. He looked down at Sam and managed to say “Sammy?”

 

“One of those assholes shot at the car. The bullet skidded, hit Dean in the neck. It just grazed him, Dad. He shouldn’t be dying-he can’t die!” 

 

John picked up Sam’s barely controlled panic and clenched his fists, fighting to stay steady. Immediately, Jeff took John by the waist and turned him away from Sam and Dean.

 

“John! John, listen to me, or you’re going to lose both the boys. Listen! Look at me, dammit!” Jeff hated shouting at John, hated the despairing look in his Otherself’s eyes. “Help Jensen. Lend Intent. Jared! Sam! You too. Jensen’s not strong enough to do this on his own. Intend!”

 

_That_ John knew how to do. He shut his eyes and joined Jeff’s focus on Jensen. Sam felt Jared slip out of the front seat and step in behind him both physically and in the halfway world of thought. When Jared’s hand clasped his shoulder, Sam leaned into the touch and the strength of Jared’s Intent.

 

Then, deep under them, a growling hum of engines, came the voices of the cousins. Supporting the two-legs. Solid as rock to stand on while Jensen struggled to haul Dean back.

 

The Hunter hadn’t moved yet, but his face had lost its grey tinge and his breathing had returned to something like normal. The injury gaped open, but no more blood welled from it. And the edges had begun to close toward each other. 

 

A deep stillness spread around them as Jensen worked, his instincts telling him what to do and how to do it. “S-“Dean’s eyes drifted open slowly, then closed again. Sam’s overjoyed “Dean?” elicited a barely visible nod, and Sam’s heartbeat steadied as he concentrated on helping Jensen.

 

He was pissed, Dean thought to himself idly. Couldn’t move. Couldln’t make sure his baby hadn’t been scratched. Hurt. Couldn’t move. No-something- what? Jensen beside him all heat and light. Wait-oh crap – Jensen. Jensen, I’m all right! he thought, as loudly as he could. “Jensen, c’mon man! I’m all right!” He sensed the precise moment when Jensen spun out of control. “Jensen!” he croaked.

 

Which wasn’t easy around Jensen’s lips pressed to his. “Jensen – Sammy – help him! He- can’t stop. Help him!” He forced himself to slide away from Jensen’s mouth and managed “Can’tstopelpm” before he had to shut up and just breathe.

 

“Jensen?” Jared stared hollowly at his Otherself and reached for his color song. “Jensen?” Nothing. Jensen either didn’t or couldn’t hear him. “Jensen, baby. It’s me. Come on back! Sam, he’s not answering!” 

 

Sam took charge. Although he hated to let Dean go for even a breath, he turned and stood, blocking Jared from reaching to touch Jensen. “Jared, I’m going to pull Jensen back. No, man! You don’t know how!”

 

“He’s my Otherself! He’s MY Otherself! Don’t touch him!” Jared struggled against the firm hold that Sam had on his biceps. “Don’t touch him!” he snarled at Sam.

 

“Jared, listen to me! Listen. To. Me.” Sam spoke quickly and quietly, refusing to let Jared look away, knowing just how the other man felt. The only thing Sam wanted to do was to take Dean into his arms and be the person who healed his Otherself completely. Only Jensen could do that, and Sam raged at his own helplessness. 

 

But he knew what Dean had tried to say. 

 

Jared and Jensen hadn’t had enough time as a couple. Their years of acting together - and their unspoken love then- had given them more empathy than most. But general empathy and the type of precise synchronization needed to help Dean without losing either Dean or himself? Jensen couldn’t do it. 

 

Sam and Dean read each other almost faultlessly. That skill had taken their entire lives to develop. He and Dean were as new to being True Met as Jensen and Jared. Their only step up was the number of years they had openly loved each other. And Sam wasn’t sure that that advantage would be enough.

 

Trusting that Jared could help Jensen heal Dean just enough while remembering to save himself by pulling away at the right second? Sam hated to admit the truth to himself, but he knew that blindly trusting Jared was courting disaster.

 

“Jared, you can’t do what needs to be done. You – Jared, look at me! – you don’t know how to stop any more than Jensen does. Dean’s right about that. You’d end up pouring everything into him and both of you _will_ die. ” Jared tried to yank clear of Sam’s hold on him and his logic. Neither attempt worked.

 

“Jensen?” His gaze flicked toward his lover.

 

Sam reached out and found Jensen’s color song, called to it gently.

 

“I have him. Jared, I know this is hard. I don’t want to leave Dean with anyone else either. But he can pull the little energy that he needs from you without hurting you.” Sam already felt Jensen’s color song settling feebly with his. “Please, Jared. Please take care of Dean for me?” For an instant, he voice wavered as his composure cracked just a bit. “I give you my word I won’t let Jensen go.”

 

Bits of color song filtered into the air around the four younger men. John took a step toward them, wanting to do something. _Anything._ Lend green gold to shield them – anything -

 

Jeff caught John’s left wrist in his grip. Gently, he said, “John, we need to leave them alone. No, away from here. Let them work this out.”

 

“Are you sure? Jeff, what if-“

 

“There’s nothing we can do but wait. We’re not going far.” Jeff tugged John’s sleeve gently and took his hand to lead him away. When the two men glanced over their shoulders, four color songs swirled slowly in the air around their Otherselves.

 

One slipped a supporting tendril around the smallest of the other three. Jensen, and Sam supporting him. The others found their way together: Dean and Jared. Healing.

 

 

Jensen heard a color song. A bold, laughing color song, not Jared’s. A different color song that lured his own back from the swirling yellow red chasm that promised more energy to heal Dean. Dean who lay beside him where he teetered on the front edge of the back seat. Dean lived but still very weak, needing help. Jensen felt weariness pulling relentlessly at him, but Sam’s song came stronger, clearer, reassuring him.

 

“Come, little brother. It’s safe to leave Dean now. He’s alive. You’ve done well. Come here and walk back with me.” Sam spoke calmly and encouragingly through the song and Jensen felt large, strong hands framing his face, Sam’s forehead pressed to his. “Jared’s with Dean. He has strength to spare, that one! Take some of mine.”

 

Take? How? He didn’t know what Sam meant. Take? Stupid with exhaustion suddenly, he sensed consciousness slipping away. Sam remained calm and near, and he felt the feather soft touch of the hunter’s lips to his own. “I’ll share some with you. Let me, please? You’re worn half to death, Jensen. I know you feel cold. You’re tired. Let me warm you up.”

 

Sam figured that he was using a mental battering ram rather than anything resembling finesse. As Jensen lowered his resistance, the frailty of his color song, barely a whisper, wiped out any hesitation in Sam’s mind. Jensen needed help. That was simple. And he could give it. 

 

Sam eased both of them out and onto the ground in the shadow of the Impala. Once he had Jensen’s attention, he wrapped his arms and legs around the smaller man and proceeded to spoon energy into him. Thinking Jensen well and stronger, carefully sheltering the man and his color song, bringing them back. 

 

He knew he’d made the right decision when he felt Jensen’s body relax in his embrace and his shaking hands slide up Sam’s body toward his face. Their lips touched again and Sam slipped his tongue into Jensen’s mouth, felt Jensen respond, breath shivering, sweat chilling his skin. Sam’s kiss deepened and he wrapped himself tighter around Jensen’s exhausted body. 

 

Jared rested as much of himself as he could on Dean without crushing him. Dean, for his part, felt like he’d wakened up in an oven. Lying on the car seat, he was able to speak to Jared, to help him understand what he needed. “I-need to just no, Jared. Too much. Let me – don’t force.” 

 

When Jared leaned down and pressed his forehead against Dean’s he felt the difference between the Hunter and Jensen immediately. Even though the color songs were new to both him and Sam, Dean viewed them as an extension of the love he’d borne for Sam all of his life. Truth to tell, sometimes, when the hunt had gone badly or one of them had seen one too many dark creatures, both Dean and Sam had sheltered each other in love and caring that rarely required words. The color song only added dimension to what Dean already knew as part of himself.

 

Jensen had nowhere near the certainty Dean possessed. Jared, although more sure of his song and of himself, lacked experience. Sam had been right, much as Jared didn’t want to admit it. Rather than think about that, he focused on Dean.

 

Dean accepted only what he needed in terms of Jared’s strength. And, within two minutes, he’d released Jared’s color song. But Jared, still stunned at what had happened in so short a time, refused to let Dean go. He realized dimly that Dean wasn’t resisting. That Dean had almost died. That Jensen had nearly died trying to heal Dean. Jared saw looming under him the vast emptiness that was a life without Jensen. And balanced on the brink, not sure where reality lay. 

 

If Jensen had died – if- 

 

Dean slid his hands under Jared’s shirt and tugged him close, his arms shaking with the effort. Fierce, although it cost him precious healing energy, he murmured “You are not going to die. Not today. And Jensen is all right. Listen to me, Jared! Look at me!”

 

‘D-dean? I don’t want Jensen to die! He’ll die and I won’t –“

 

Dean leaned up and butted his nose along the side of Jared’s, bringing Jared back to the moment. “He’s alive and safe. He’s in Sam’s arms. Like you’re in mine. Little brother, this is reality. Here! Now!”

 

For just a heartbeat, they stared at each other, Jared searching for something in Dean’s expression. Hesitantly, he leaned down, pulled back a little, then closed the distance between them and kissed Dean’s chapped lips, felt Dean kiss him back. “Jared – “Dean whispered shakily and tightened his grip on Jared’s torso, rubbing down the other man’s back muscles slowly, feeling his way. Jared sighed and deepend the kiss, focusing on feeding strength lightly into Dean. 

 

Slowly, Dean eased back from Jared’s caress and opened his eyes. They both smiled tentatively at each other and closed the distance again. 

 

Behind them, they heard –

 

Giggling. 

 

Dean breathed a soft laugh as he settled back onto the seat. “Go take care of Jensen. And no fooling around! He turned himself inside out.” For a second his voice faltered. “To save me.” A shadow of his patented smug smile tilted his lips and he added more loudly, “Which is a good thing.” 

 

“Yeah, it is,” Sam called as he rolled onto his side and tickled Jensen once in retaliation for the merciless rib dancing Jensen had done at his expense. “Jensen?” He cocked his head to one side and pressed a light peck of the lips to Jensen’s forehead. 

 

“Uhmm?”

 

“C’mon man. Up.” Jensen followed orders, although his knees wobbled and he splayed his legs for balance. He tottered toward Jared and realized suddenly that he didn’t have another step in him. Before he could panic, Jared had him scooped up into his embrace and kissed him senseless. 

 

“Who the hell let me get blood all over my car?” Dean’s outraged shout – well, Dean admitted to himself, it sounded a lot like an outraged squeak – filled the air in the back seat of the Impala.

 

Sam, Jensen and Jared all rolled their eyes and sighed.

 

“Not a clue,” Sam murmured in Dean’s ear. Then he kissed Dean and his brother’s mumblings faded away.


	26. Chapter 25

  
Author's notes: Someday I'll get the chapter numbers straight. I'll be posting the next chapter in two or three days. But I wanted to get this out there now. I hope you like it!  


* * *

Chapter 25

 

Far up in the branches of an old oak tree at the edge of the clearing, two crows watched the swirling flurry of color song and the silent currents of energy as injuries were healed and fears were banished. Another deeper stream of granite speckled power held firm under the soil. It had preceded the cousins and steadied them as they arrived. It held strong when the great vehicles had calmed and focused their two-legs.

 

Gradually, with the exception of a sudden bubbling of laughterfrom the tall Hunter and a squeak of annoyance from his Otherself, the clearing settled into silence.

 

‘Maida, they are veryvery tired.”

 

“Yes. Veryvery tired. Especially the mageling. The others don’t know-“

 

“Nonot any of them. Even his” Zia pointed to John “Otherself. They are only halfawake.”

 

“Half is muchmuch better than none,” Maida reminded Zia, who, she knew, had a tendency to forget things that didn’t sparkle or have sugar in them.

 

“Certainly. Much much better. Half a cup of sugar is much better than none, for example. Or halfasandwich. Or half-“

 

Maida nodded between halves and pointed back to the clearing. “The mageling didn’t even have to try. He just _did. He thought and -” Her right wing moved in a very human shrug._

_“He was carefully careful, though. Trees didn’t feel it, ground just moved back. I wonder what his insidemind looks like.”_

_“Oh oh. The mageling is greyblue. OtherselfHunter should be ready to –“_

_They watched as Jeff suddenly collapsed into John’s embrace. Startled, the Hunter called his Otherself’s name and shook him gently. “Maida, he doesn’t know the mageling is only asleep.”_

_Maida glanced at Zia and the two crows dropped from the oak tree limb._

_Two Crow Girls alit as lightly as feathers forty feet down. Zia would have been happy to surprise John Winchester, but Maida knew better. She shook her head and cleared her voice in a spectacular fashion. Which, since she had landed right in front of John, wasn’t strictly necessary. However, she preferred not to be rude, since it clashed with her hair color. John glanced up once and then turned his attention back to Jeff._

_“Jeff? Baby-boy? Wake up-c’mon. “John heard Jeff’s regular deep breathing, and his Otherself frowned when a pinch hurt him. But he didn’t open his eyes. The Crow Girls knelt by the two of them and peered first at Jeff and then at John._

_“He’s sleeping, HunterOtherself. He’s veryvery tired.”_

_“Yes. Making a safe landingplace is hard work. Steadying the earth under the cousins while they sang is hardwork when a mageling is already tired from making a landingplace.” They nodded at each other soberly and then looked back at John._

_“Making a-“John had had enough. His brain couldn’t process anything more. “He’s asleep?” He heard soft footsteps, someone nearing from inside the woods. Since neither Crow Girl seemed to be the least bit concerned, he remained where he was._

_“Yes, Hunter.” Coyote limped from the woods, his near front paw wrapped in a bandage. “Where are Bobby and Nancy and Tuesday?”_

_“I-Sam and Dean – Jeff” John heard himself babble and almost laughed out loud. He would have if everything hadn’t been so damned out of whack. “I don’t know.” He rubbed his free hand over the eyes and squinted up at Coyote._

_Coyote nodded and shook himself into manskin. “I’ll find ‘em.”_

_John stared stupidly at the injury to the Coyote’s hand. “How-?” Coyote shook his head once and glanced quickly around them. Immediately, John shoved through his weariness and waited until Dale relaxed slightly. When he spoke, the words came softly, but with an edge to them._

_“Not here. Not now. Are the Kelladys safe?”_

_“You don’t know?” John replied quietly. He didn’t want to be quiet. He wanted to raise hell because he couldn’t make himself think through things. His Otherself was tired after making a landing place and helping the cousins sing. All the while he’d been keeping John from losing his mind worrying about Dean and Sam._

_“Radio silence, remember? That was your idea, by the way.” Dale Earnhardt’s blue eyes glinted and he stared at John. “And it was a good one. All things considered.”_

_“They’re safe, although I don’t think riding in the bed of Bobby’s truck was Cerin’s first choice.” Dale smiled and whuffed out a laugh. He cocked his head to one side and listened, turned in the direction of a sound that he alone could hear: the Crow Girls were listening to something else altogether, the light in both their eyes an odd glistening black._

_John watched Coyote scout hesitantly along the edge of the clearing. Within two minutes, he’d spotted Tuesday and called her name in greeting. They spoke together quietly and glanced once at John. Dale nodded. And they walked into Kellygnow Wood, disappearing silently._

_Out of the corner of his eye, John spotted Meran walking toward him and Jeff._

_“John.” Meran spoke quietly. “We need to get away from here. I know you don’t want to wake your Otherself, and Dean is still weak, but can you make it to our home for the night?”_

_“If the cousins are able.” John cradled as much of Jeff in his embrace as he could. “I don’t remember how far it is.”_

_“Cerin will ride with you. I’ll ride with Dean and Sam and Jared and Jensen. But we need to move now while we still have the advantage.”_

_“Advantage? Why do we have - Wait, I know. Not here, not now.” Meran frowned and nodded.”Baby-boy?”_

_Jeff’s eyelids fluttered and he turned to bury his face in John’s chest. “Sleepy- tired.”_

_“I know. But I need you to help me just until we get back to the truck. C’mon. We’re going to the Kelladys. To a nice soft bed.”_

_“Uhmmm-“which, John decided, meant that Jeff was awake enough to stagger to the truck. A quick glance toward the Impala showed John that Jared behind the wheel, Jensen next to him. _Uh oh_. Meran slipped into the passenger’s seat, her slender frame fitting perfectly against the door._

_Sam sat in the back seat, Dean in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around the injured men. He had refused to leave Dean’s side, ignoring his brother’s weak protestations when Dean had realized that _Jared_ was going to drive the Impala. Sam’s distress thrummed strongly enough to make John uncomfortable. _Lovely. I’m feelin’ everyone’s emotions. Oh happy day._ _

_“John, fall in behind the Impala. I’ll take point.” Bobby steadied Jeff while John settled him in the truck. “He did a good job.”_

_“Does everyone but me know about him making this clearing?”_

_“Nope.” Bobby didn’t say any more, although his eyes glinted with his own type of humor. “Stick tight. Things aren’t what they were the last time you were here.” All the humor dropped from his voice._

_Kellygnow lay on the West side of Newford and faced away from the river which ran along Newford’s eastern side. The Wood blanketed the steep slopes of a hill. Only one road, Handfast, wound its way to the top, leading to the habitable remains of a sprawling mansion that had, three years earlier, been partially destroyed. As he drove, John remembered that the circumstances around the fire that had ruined much of place had been unusual._

_Although he had only driven by it one time, he knew that the Kelladys’ house stood in an area of modest residences on the near side of the river._

_Remembering what he knew, John almost missed the fact that the truck eased down a gentle slope toward the city. Gentle slope? John glanced in his side view mirror and frowned. No steep hill, no Handfast Road that he could see. And, ahead of him a wide stone bridge crossed the river._

_One day, several years earlier, John had turned on his truck’s radio to his favorite oldies station. And had been blasted by heavy metal and Goth rock. For a few seconds, he had thought he’d lost a weekend or something, the change had been so sudden._

_He remembered that moment as the truck rolled onto a bridge that shouldn’t have been there crossing a river that had apparently jumped sideways on a whim._

_Paradigm shifts sucked. Physical paradigm shifts sucked much more. Eyes slitted, nerves on the alert, he maintained his position, second in line and followed Bobby closely._

_For the most part, the streets of Newford didn’t look much different than the streets in any small city. People walked along bent on their own business, talking on cell phones or shepherding children, doing things that people in every city on the planet did every day. The stores and buildings seemed to be the same as in every other city, a mix of old and new, nothing remarkable._

_But more had changed than the geography and topography. Something else seeped in under his physical senses. A sinking feeling clutched John’s stomach and he instinctively reached out for Jeff to make sure of his safety. “John?”_

_“I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby boy. Just close your eyes again.”_

_“Where’re we?”_

_“In Newford. We’ll be at the Kelladys in a little while. Go back to sleep until we get there.”_

_And that would have been fine, John thought to himself a moment later, if Bobby hadn’t just pulled in at the Kelladys’ street. There, at the far end of the second block, its appearance unchanged, stood Meran and Cerin Kelladys’ home, two miles from its previous location._

_****_

_“John, are you sleep walkin’ or are you awake?” Bobby’s quiet voice came from the shadows of the darkened living room._

_“Awake.” John smiled when Bobby cocked an eyebrow and glanced over John’s shoulder. “Jeff’s asleep. That making a landing place thing is tough work. Where are the boys?”_

_“I checked on ‘em awhile ago. I think you should see this.” Bobby’s chuckle tickled a smile from John._

_Silently,they crossed the living room to the hall and opened the door to the second room on the left, the one Sam and Dean had claimed. John’s nose twitched as he tried to quell his laughter._

_“I counted legs and divided by two. They’re all there.”_

_The queen sized bed frame had been stripped of its mattresses and bedclothes before it had been pushed back against the wall. The mattresses, joined by one of the two from Jared and Jensen’s queen size bed, had landed on the floor, forming a huge sleeping surface. A tangled mound of blankets, top sheet and sleeping men had developed over the hours. John looked more closely and smiled faintly._

_Dean lay surrounded by the other three, Sam holding him close. Jared had managed both to spoon Jensen next to him and to rest a hand on Dean’s right shoulder. Jensen had shifted in his sleep and slid one leg between Dean’s at the ankle. Sam’s left arm brushed Jensen’s nearest hand. Around them all, a quiet, almost invisible swirl of color song whispered._

_The color songs were singing a lullaby each to the other._

_Walking as softly as they had when entering the bedroom, the two older men left._

_“I’m -Jeff-“ All John wanted was to be with his Otherself, to hold him, to make certain he was all right._

_“Go for it.” After John shut his and Jeff’s bedroom door, Bobby shook his head. “Ain’t love grand, Johnny?” he murmured._

_****_

_Sam jolted awake, gasping. _Dean?_ “Dean?”_

_Dean slept quietly beside him, his color normal, no sign of fever. Jensen had moved in the night and rested his back against Dean’s while he wrapped his left arm around Jared’s waist._

_When Jared tapped his forearm, Sam flicked a glance in his direction. Something had disturbed them both enough that they had wakened. Jared listened out, wondering if the click of a door closing quietly had been part of a dream, but Sam’s frowning presence told him it hadn’t. About to clamber to his feet, Jared hesitated, bringing Sam up short as well. Looked down at Jensen sleeping beside him and then back at Sam. Just their slight movements had roused Dean, and Jensen had followed suit._

_Sam thought for a moment, then nodded and caught Jared’s attention. Moving very carefully, he eased Dean over to his other side and spooned him against Jensen. For a few seconds, Dean struggled to wake up before he allowed sleep to win and dozed back off, arm around Jensen’s waist._

_Jensen frowned in his sleep and felt around with one hand, but when Dean clasped him close, settled back again, his hand over Dean’s. In ten seconds, they were covered by four blankets, wards against both a chill and the feeling of being alone._

_Sam nodded toward the bedroom door and, collecting his belongings as he did so, crossed the room and eased out into the hall with Jared right behind him._

_Around them, the house lay silent, but not unguarded. Even Jared sensed the presence of watchful eyes. A quick pause in the bathroom where they peed, brushed and dressed, and they cat- footed down the hall._

_John and Jeff’s door was closed, but Sam would have bet breakfast that the click of a door closing had been his dad heading out to – to what? Take a brisk constitutional?_

_The sound of snoring trailed from a pull out bed in the living room. Bobby slept next to Tuesday, his arm around her. There was no sign of Nancy: Jared wondered for just a second exactly how many bedrooms there were in the Kelladys’ home._

_Half light and shadows slid around them as they crossed the living room and left the house, the large front door silent on its hinges. Dawn hadn’t arrived, although the sun’s light had filled the south east horizon. One quick look around confirmed Sam’s suspicions. The truck was gone: John must have released the brake and let the truck roll into the street before he started it._

_“Son of a bitch. Dad, what the hell are you thinking?” Sam snapped to no one in particular. Jared jumped at the sudden noise and then laughed nervously. “Jared, I don’t know where they’ve gone. They didn’t want company or they’d have made more noise.”_

_“How do you know that Jeff’s there?”_

_“He wouldn’t stay behind. Not a chance. Remember, dude, they’ve met and seen each other in Dreamspace. They pretty much know what each other’s molecules smell like. Jeff’d be on his feet and after Dad before he’d gone two inches.”_

_“How about Jensen and Dean?”_

_“Dean’s in no shape to do anything. Jensen’s still worn out. They’ll sleep and we’ll be back before they miss us.”_

_“Why don’t I believe that?”_

_“Because you’re a cynic. C’mon man. We’re talking the Impala.”_

_“Where?”_

_“Back to Kellygnow. I can’t think of any place else Dad would go.”_

_“But there’s nothing there!”_

_“Exactly.”_

_Fortunately, the new configuration of the landscape made the trip a short one. Unfortunately, no road existed leading into the wood. Spotting the trail of smashed brush and scoured earth left by John’s truck as he pointed it toward the top of the very small rise half a mile in, Sam decided to push the Impala as far is it was able to go, avoiding rocks and tree fallen tree limbs as he did so. Fifty feet from the crest of the rise, the cousin stopped and refused to go on._

_“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just wanted you out of sight of the road.” Sam started a little when the dashboard lights flicked on and off once and then shook his head. “We’re going ahead on foot, Jared. You up for this?” The glare Jared shot at him would have cowed much stronger men than the hunter. “Just askin’.”_

_Jared knew how to be quiet –playing the part of a hunter meant that he had had to practice endlessly to be good enough to move silently through brush and undergrowth whether on location or on the set. It wasn’t something that was necessarily expected from him. In part, he’d mastered the skill because he was an actor and the part demanded his best._

_Another reason altogether had underlain his fierce attention to things like shooting and being a Hunter. In the program, Sam had Dean’s back. And once they’d stopped filming, Jared had Jensen’s, although the other man hadn’t known it._

_The lines had blurred between Jared Padalecki, actor, and Sam Winchester, younger brother. Jared didn’t even think about it anymore. He stepped behind Sam and a bit off to the right side, just as he had for years behind Jensen. Sam cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the rifle he had taken from the trunk of the car. Jared reached behind himself and pulled out the handgun he’d slid into his waistband after washing up._

_Around them, the woods lay silent. That didn’t worry Sam: animals automatically went still when humans were about. But he listened as far ahead as he could and heard nothing. _That sent warning signals straight to his brain. He glanced at the ground and picked up the truck’s trail immediately: John had driven along the shoulder of the rise and to the East, into Kellygnow Wood.__

__

__A quarter of a mile later, they came upon the truck, parked in a slight depression on the hillside. A quick look told Sam that his dad had followed standard procedure. The truck was locked and faced outward for a quick departure if one was needed. Two sets of tracks met at the back of the truck and stood there long enough to make a deeper impression in the soil. “I wonder what they were doing,” Jared snickered._ _

__

__“Padalecki, if you have to ask – can Jeff shoot a gun?”_ _

__

__“Random much? Yeah, he can. Actually, he can shoot better than I can. Jensen’s a natural – he isn’t much behind Dean in that department. Do you think John would give him a gun?”_ _

__

__“Probably not. Jeff has a knife, but he’s only getting back to a point where he can handle a gun. Before – “ Sam’s face darkened as he remembered the pale, starved, injured man they’d rescued. “Before – he couldn’t.”_ _

__

__“I wonder what they’re looking for.” Jared interrupted Sam’s train of thought before it could build momentum._ _

__

__“I think Dad already knows what he’s looking for, but he’s not sure exactly where it is. He could have asked someone and saved himself the walking right into danger thing. I think he’s probably giving Jeff a chance to get used to what’s going on.”_ _

__

__“Jeff _is_ used to it. Dude, I know you guys think he’s a wuss or something, but he isn’t. He’s had to be tough – actors are tough – “_ _

__

__“Jared, slow down. We know Jeff is tough. Man, he went through hell when he was kidnapped. But that’s part of the problem. He’s still skittish. And him being skittish along with the being True Met? Dad’s not ever going to put him in danger, but the more he sees and does, the steadier he’ll be. And the less of a distraction he’ll be.”_ _

__

__Jared nodded. Looked up when something walked close to the trail they were following. “I know.”_ _

__

__Sam sensed it before he saw it. “Jared? What’s up, dude?”_ _

__

__“Nothing. Let’s find John and Jeff. Can you see anything tracking them?”_ _

__

__Sam didn’t push the issue. Instead, he concentrated on teaching Jared how to read the trail that John had left. “He’s slowing down. Something’s not right, or he’d be moving at the same rate or a little faster. Jared?”_ _

__

__“I’m having trouble breathing.” Jared stated the fact calmly, but his eyes were wide and he struggled to pull air into and push it out of his lungs. “Sam – “Sam opened his mouth to tell Jared to relax, and felt something crushing the air from his lungs as well. Whatever it was had sprung itself on them silently, going for a kill, mindless, deadly. Gasping, Sam sank toward Jared and then toward the ground. The trees around them spun as they lost consciousness and toppled on their sides to the ground._ _

__

__****_ _

__Jensen stirred in his sleep, startled by the sound of his color song. The scrabbling crescendo of music crashed into his dreams. Wrenched awake, panting, he called out for Jared. At the same time, Dean wrestled himself awake looking for Sam._ _

__

__“Where’s Sam? Jensen! Sam?”_ _

__“Dean, I can’t- Jared! Something’s wrong! I can’t hear Jared!”_ _

__“Where’s Sam?” Dazed, Dean struggled to sit up. “Sam?” He called out the name hopefully and searched for his brother’s color song but received no reply.“Dammit, Sam! Where are you? Jensen, lie down before you fall over.”_ _

__

__Darkness sucked Dean into its grasp and he knew immediately that Sammy faced death. This was what the world would be without his Sam in it. Jensen choked for air and clutched at Dean’s arm. Jared and Sam were both in mortal peril. Where were they – no matter – he’d follow Sam, just as Sam had promised to follow him. There was no life without Sam in it. Jensen had already dropped deep into silence, his breath faltering and his face pale._ _

__

__Dean reached slowly for Jensen’s hand and squeezed the man’s fingers. “Not alone. We won’t be alone. They’ll be there. Waiting.” Was that his voice? He couldn’t hear himself in the vast roaring darkness. Dean lost his balance and fell over Jensen. Not afraid, because Sam and Jared would be there already. His Sam –_ _

__

__****_ _

__

__“Sam? Sam!”_ _

__

__Sam’s eyelids blinked and he hauled in a deep breath of blessed air. His Dad knelt beside him and Jeff did the same by Jared. “Sam, I’m sorry! Damn, son! Are you okay?”_ _

__

__“Wha’? What? Okay? Jared? Jay? You okay over there?”_ _

__

__****_ _

__

__

___“I can’t find a pulse. Damnit, Tuesday, I can’t find a - wait! There. Goddamn it, boys, you can’t be doing this to an old man!”_ _ _

___ _

___Bobby thanked any power within reach that he’d opened the door to the mens’ bedroom after Sam and Jared left the house. Part of him had wanted to keep them near their Otherselves, but the rest of him had been worried about John and Jeff wandering off, obviously bent on doing something stupid, since they hadn’t bothered to wake anyone to say that they were leaving._ _ _

___ _

___He’d heard panicked voices and headed for Dean and Jensen as fast as he could, calling out to Tuesday and Nancy for help._ _ _

___ _

___Dean had fallen over onto Jensen’s chest and lay motionless. Jensen’s lips had begun to turn blue and removing Dean’s weight hadn’t helped anything. No more than two minutes could have elapsed between the noises and Dean’s first shuddering breath. Jensen had begun panting at almost the same time._ _ _

___ _

___“Tuesday?”_ _ _

___ _

___“I don’t know, Bobby. Nancy, what do you think. Nancy?”_ _ _

___ _

___“We need to tell them they’re all right. Then we need to leave them alone. We’re in the way right now.”_ _ _

___ _

___Dean’s eyes opened slowly and he looked around. Next to him, equally confused, Jensen clung to Dean’s hand and tried to speak. He’d heard Bobby say something. And Nancy telling Bobby that they weren’t hearing him. And then quiet had fallen again._ _ _

___ _

___Jensen’s entire body shuddered as he breathed and did his best to remember what had happened. “Dee?”_ _ _

___ _

___“’S okay, Jensen. ‘Sall okay. ‘M here.” He did his best to sound reassuring, but the little tug on his arm and the faint, impatient, “Dee?” told him that he hadn’t convinced the other man. “C’mon here. Ya gotta help me, man. Can’t haul y’rass.”_ _ _

___ _

___Jensen laughed – a little. Inched closer to Dean and flopped one hand on the Hunter’s face. “Man, that hurt! Where’d y’get those concrete fingers, ‘nyway?” Jensen’s fingertips were still ice cold, and Dean’s brain re-engaged with a click he swore that anyone walking by could have heard. “Jensen?”_ _ _

___ _

___“Dead. They were dead an’ I was dead – in the dark. Afraid. You- hand. This one.”_ _ _

___ _

___Dean knew babble. Dealing with people who’d faced the supernatural and come out more or less sane meant that he had learned babble at a remarkably young age. Slowly –damn it, were his fingers ever going to work again? – he patted Jensen’s face and pulled him into his embrace._ _ _

___ _

___“It’s okay, Jensen. They’re coming home. There’s Jay’s song. There’s my Sam. Home. To us. You hear me?”_ _ _

___ _

___Jensen nodded a little and nuzzled closer. Dean pressed a kiss to Jensen’s forehead and, when Jensen looked up, the tip of his nose. “Like kissin’ myself. But ‘m better lookin’.” Jensen managed a snort of derision. “Hey! That was funny!”_ _ _

___ _

___Jensen tried to pretend everything was all right, that he’d just had a hell of a dream. But he knew he hadn’t. He was all alone away from family, with the love of his life and no one to tell that to other than people who already knew it .And he had almost died because Jared had almost died. Two tears slid down his cheeks as he looked into Dean’s eyes._ _ _

___ _

___Helpless as a cowboy in a ladies’ beauty parlor, Dean fell back on what he did in Sam’s darkest moments, when the nightmares had been too vivid and had held on for too long. He wrapped his arms around Jensen and held him, rocking a little back and forth, kissing the top of his head and his hair, the top of his left ear and wondering where the hell Jared and Sam were. Goddamn radio silence!_ _ _

__

__****_ _

__

__

__“Told- you we wouldn’t be back at – house before- they wake up. Shit! What h-it me? Bus? A bus?” Jared stared up into Jeff’s eyes and shook his head, clearing away the last of the unconsciousness. “Sam, you all right?”_ _

__

__“Yeah. I think.” Sam let John help him to a seated position and sagged forward. “Dad, what do you mean, you’re sorry?” His eyes glinted with anger. “Sorry about what?”_ _

__

__“The warding. The wards around Tamsen House.”_ _

__

__“You tried to go through ‘em too fast and they fought back.”_ _

__

__John nodded. “I didn’t know you were here, damnit! You’re supposed to be asleep!”_ _

__

__“We obviously aren’t a-freakin’-sleep! But we could have been dead! Those wards must be fifteen feet thick to show that kind of resistance.”_ _

__

__“At least. In most places. ”_ _

__

__“I don’t want to hear about this right now. Damnit, Dad, would a few more seconds have made any difference? Time enough for the wards to identify you as friendly? Jay, don’t try to stand up just yet. Stay down where the air is thicker.”_ _

__

__“Hah hah, very funny. You mean the wards sucked the air out of us? What wards? For what? Why are they here? “_ _

__

__John shook his head abruptly. “Did you bring the Impala?”_ _

__

__“Yeah. Dad, you and Jeff head on back to the truck. We’re gonna walk a little slower than you. Jeff? Keep an eye on General Impetuous, willya?”_ _

__

__“I’ll do my best.” Jeff rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Are Jensen and Dean all right?”_ _

__

__“They were when we left. And they should still be asleep, but I’m guessing that both of us almost dying might’ve woken ‘em up. Oh great gods!”_ _

__

__Horror crossed Jared’s face and flooded into Sam’s expression as they reached out for their Otherselves. Jared found Jensen and pushed every bit of his song to his mate, wrapping him in love and reassurance; Sam’s song arrowed straight to Dean’s._ _

__

__Sweating with the effort needed to reassure his Otherself, relaxing only slightly when Jensen’s tiny song grasped a tendril of music and echoed it, Jared turned and glared at John. “Sir, you get to explain this to Jensen and Dean. We could have lost them both. And if Jensen had gone, I would have followed him.”_ _

__

__Sam nodded agreement. He was still too deeply entwined with Dean’s song and with running his thoughts over Dean’s body and checking his healing injuries to speak._ _

__

__Slowly, groaning as he did so, Jared managed to gain his feet. “C’mon, Sam. Let’s go.”_ _

__

__

__“See you back at the house, Dad.”_ _

__

__As they walked along, Sam kept a low key watch on Jared._ _

__

__The look on Jared’s face reflected more than anger. Something had been bothering the actor for awhile, and Sam knew it._ _

__

__Unlike most people, neither man had to look up in order to talk to each other. Sam figured that gave him some advantage in the reading Jared Padalecki environment._ _

__

__And Sam had learned to read body language before he’d turned three. He’d seen something out of sync with Jared before. Not all the time, but occasionally. Just a hesitation, a brief break in a thought. Sam realized that the hints had turned into a full blow facial expression and that it wasn’t disappearing._ _

__

__In silence, they retraced their footsteps back to the Impala._ _

__

____


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

 

“Dean’s going to tear him apart. Right after Jensen gets done with him.” Jay muttered as he stomped beside Sam. He almost said something else, but quelled it in favor of maintaining a quiet and reassuring song toward his Otherself. 

 

Sam, however, decided that it was past time to find out what Jared was thinking but not saying.

 

“Jay, what else is botherin’ you?” He caught the flash of Jared’s change of mood and knew he’d hit home. 

 

“Besides the fact that I almost died? That Jensen’s a healer who doesn’t know how to control healing to the point that he almost died! That we’re in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere Canada when I’m supposed to be in Vancouver or Texas? Besides that?” Jared clamped down on his next sentence and turned his head away from Sam. 

 

“Yeah. Besides that. Jared, I can read what you’re feeling. If I can, Jensen can. And I don’t think you want him to. Am I right?”

 

Jared mumbled something so quietly that Sam almost missed it. “Cell phone? Is that what you said? Jared,” and Sam’s voice quieted. “C’mon, man. Tell me what’s really eating at you.”

 

Jared opened the Impala’s passenger front door and slid into the seat. He waited until Sam had done the same and closed the driver’s door. “I said- oh hell. It ain’t important. Let’s just get back to Dean and Jensen.”

 

“Nope. Not doing that. Jared, something’s wrong. Talk to me, will ya?”

 

The flush of color that washed across Jared’s cheekbones startled Sam. “Man, what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

 

“We could have died. Again.”

 

“I know.” Sam waited quietly for the rest of what had wrapped Jared up so tight he looked strangled.

 

“I’m afraid.”

 

“We all are. Almost all the time. Even between hunts-“

 

“Not of that! Well, yeah, I’m afraid of that. But- Sam, let’s go. I know that Jensen’s awake, and-“

 

“No. Tell me what’s wrong. Jared, you can’t be distracted like this and stay alive. I’m serious, man.” Sam watched Jared’s expressive face twist into a knot of thought. “C’mon, Jay. I’m not gonna laugh, whatever it is.”

 

“You son of a bitch – this isn’t a fucking joke!” Jared snarled the words. “I want to call my parents! Okay? I want to call my parents and let ‘em know I’m alive!”

 

“Wait – hold on. Are you telling me that you _haven’t_ called them? I thought – I mean, I- You haven’t called them?” Stunned, Sam just gaped at the tall actor. He’d assumed, hell, he was pretty certain they had _all_ assumed that Jared and Jensen had contacted their families, even if they hadn’t contacted anyone else.

 

“No. Neither has Jensen.” Miserably, Jared pulled his cell from his jacket pocket and stared at it. “We want to. Damn but we want to. But-“He floundered to a halt in mid-sentence. 

 

Sam did some rapid thinking and realized what Jared was trying not to say. Gently, he said the words that were choking Jared. “You’re afraid they aren’t there.”

 

Jared exhaled sharply and nodded. “I always thought that this shit only happens in fan fiction! One of those freakin’ AU stories, like what I showed you right after we got here. But now - dammit, Sam. I want to hear my momma’s voice! I miss my family somethin’ awful. What if they aren’t there? Or, worse, what if they don’t miss me because they never had me? And I’m not callin’ if Jensen doesn’t, ‘cause what if he finds out that his folks don’t miss him at the same time that I find out that my folks miss me? That I existed there and he never did? ”

 

“Or he existed there and you never did.” Sam’s eyes remained calm. Because it wasn’t going to help anything to get Jared any more upset than he already was.

 

“I don’t care about that. It doesn’t matter. I’m here with Jensen and he’s all I’ve ever needed.”

 

“Don’t you think he’d feel the same way about you? Jared, think about that.” Jared didn’t say anything, just stared out the windshield at the trees around the cousin. 

 

Sam touched Jared’s shoulder and continued,“Jay, you need to call them. Not knowing? It’s not an option.” He reached over and took the cell phone from Jared’s left hand. “C’mon. I’m gonna speed dial-and you’re gonna talk to whoever answers. For Jensen’s sake if not for yours.”

 

He hit the speed dial and waited until he heard the first ring of the phone. “Here, man. No, don’t hang up. Just talk to –“

 

“Hello?” Jared felt tears fill his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. She sounded so tired. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

 

“M-momma?” he squeaked. “Momma?”

 

“Oh my God! Jared? Jared is that you? Jared Tristan Padalecki, where are you? What happened? Are you hurt? You fell off the edge of the planet! What happened? Jared, talk to me!!!”

 

“I would if I could get a word in-“he replied shakily. “Momma, I’m fine. I’m Eastern Canada. You can call me on my cell phone. Jensen –“

 

“Has that man called his family? They’ve been worried sick! You two are less responsible than two twelve year olds! Is Jensen there?”

 

“No, momma. I mean he’s not here right now with me. But I’ll see him in a few minutes and I’ll make sure he gets hold of his folks. Mom, is everything – all right?

 

“Other than the fact that my son decided to disappear from Vancouver and hasn’t bothered to call home in _days_ , or we’ve been bombarded with phone calls from producers and your agent and Jensen’s agent and the RCMP as well as the FBI and Vancouver police? Other than that? Why, yes, everything is just _wonderful!_ Talk to me! ”

 

“Uh- we’re helping a friend of ours. Just a family prob-“

 

“Jared Tristan, you aren’t the character you play on TV! Stay out of trouble and get your backside home as soon as you can! Your father’s at work, or I’d let him take a piece out of your hide! Be ready when he calls. And believe me, he _will_! ”

 

“Mom, I know, and I deserve everything he’s going to say to me. I’m sorrier than you know that I’ve hurt you and the family. It was just something that came up. Tell Dad I’m sorry I missed him.”

 

“Oh, I will, not that it’ll make much difference! Jared, this is the most idiotic thing you’ve done – ever! You’re a grown man! Jensen is older than you are, and the pair of you just up and disappeared! I expect the full story, young man, and don’t you forget it! ”

 

“I love you, mom.”

 

His mother’s voice softened and Jared could hear the shadow of tears in it. “I love you, too, honey. Take care of yourself. And Jensen. He’s not as strong as you are, you know.”

 

“Yes’m. I’ll have Jensen call his folks. I miss you, momma.” Sam manfully ignored the suspicious tremor in Jared’s voice as well as the ache in his own heart. Neither Dean nor he had maintained a relationship with their mother, although John had done his best to make sure they communicated and had never openly said what he thought about her. Hearing Jared’s warm “I love you, mom,” hurt. 

 

Dean's color song tasted the shift in mood and queried tentatively, ready to withdraw if Sam needed to be alone. Immediately, Sam sent reassurance and warmth to Dean and locked away until later his thoughts about his mother. 

 

Sam’s attention shifted when Jared cleared his throat and sat up straighter, getting ready to end the call.

 

Jared nodded, although no one was there. He mumbled good-bye and collapsed back into the car seat. Tears slid down his cheeks and he wiped at them with the back of one hand. Beside him, Sam watched silently, letting Jared put himself back together. Only after he’d hauled in a deep breath and pocketed his phone did Sam say anything.

 

“They’re okay?”

 

“It sounds like it. Sam, all I want to do is head for home. And all I want to do is to stay here where I’m needed. I never knew something like this could be so hard. But they know I’m all right. And they know who I am!” His laughter filled the Impala. Sam heard the hysteria sliding in under the laughing.

 

“Right now, I think the whole eastern seaboard knows who you are. Dude, I’m sitting right over here. No need to shout.” Sam grinned and shoved Jared’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the – oh crap, man…”

 

The hysteria burst through Jared’s laughter and reduced it to choking, belly deep sobs that wracked his tall frame. Jared couldn’t stop crying. He choked when he tried to hold back and gave up. Turned to the passenger window and hunched his shoulders, warding off any pity before Sam could open his mouth and offer it. Sam reached over and pulled Jared into his arms, easily as strong as the actor and more determined. 

 

“Jay, it’s okay. They’re there and safe.“ 

 

‘Man – I don’t cry like this. I just fuckin’ don’t!”

 

The sobs deepened, morphed into great coughing gulps of air and grief. And relief. Fists clenched as he fought for control, Jared shook his head and whispered, “I can’t stop crying.” Each word punctuated by a coughing, body shaking gasp. “Sam – I. Can’t. Stop.”

 

Sam shook him sharply. No effect. And there was no way that he was going to slap Jared. So he did the only thing left to him. He held Jared tight and let him cry himself out. Very quietly, he murmured the usual inanities, telling Jay that everything would be all right, that everything was fine. “C’mon man…just let go. I’m here. We’re going back to Jensen and Dean. Ssshhh…c’mon baby. It’s all right,” crooning the words, stroking Jared’s arms and shoulders, pouring calm into everything he did.

 

Finally, Jay rested against Sam, just breathing, hiccupping once or twice. “I-I’m sorry, dude. I don’t know what the hell that was-“

 

“I do. So do you. Gods, Jared! You’ve been worried all this time and – never mind. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“If you tell Jensen I cried like that, I’ll break your jaw.”

 

“I’m incredibly afraid. Can you tell?” He laughed and tilted Jared’s chin up to have a glimpse of his face. “Seriously blotchy and unattractive, there, Padalecki.” Sam wiped across Jared’s cheeks with his fingers, drying up the rest of the tears. “Better. You gonna leak again soon?”

 

“Uhmmm – no?”

 

“Good. Because I’d hate to explain to Dean why my shirt’s – wet. You know?” Sam leaned forward just an inch, steadying Jared’s chin on the tips of his fingers.

 

“Yeah – it’d be a problem. For sure,” Jared’s eyes closed and he tilted his head into Sam’s gentle kiss. 

 

They parted a micron and stared into each other’s eyes. Then Sam closed the gap and kissed Jared again. Just as softly, his hand sliding back to cradle Jared’s head and he shifted his upper body toward him. Jared pulled back and managed to say “We just- I – you- we-kissed.”

 

Equally stunned, Sam nodded. “Twice.” They both blushed beet red and cleared their throats nervously. “I- you- we – how did that happen? I mean – shouldn’t the- wow. Shouldn’t the color songs have done something? We’re not Met-“

 

“I don’t know. Sam, you and I, I and you-“

 

“We should go back to the Kelladys.”

 

They nodded vigorously at each other and Jared slid toward his side of the car. “Jay, there’s a-well. If you want to use it – there’s a middle seat belt. I mean, just in case you wanted to, you know-uh-cry again?” _You aren’t alone. I’m here. We’re all here. Oh gods, what you’ve been going through._

 

Jared shot a _Princess Samantha_ look at Sam, who grinned giddily back at him. “Or – whatever.”

 

“Sam – it was just an impulse. That’s what it was – I was upset and you were sorry for me.”

 

“That sounds rational.” Sam glanced at Jared and held up one end of the middle seatbelt. After a few seconds, Jared slid back over and buckled in. 

 

 

Sam wished he could have said that Jared leaning against him, that Jared kissing him and him kissing Jared had been troubling. But he hadn’t been troubled.

 

From the way Jared hung on to his arm as the Impala picked its way back to the road, Jared hadn’t been troubled, either.

 

Which ended up leaving them both troubled. 

 

Two-legs seemed to need entirely too many gears in their transmissions, in the opinion of the cousin.

 

****

Bobby refused to laugh, at least where John Winchester could see him. Idjit, the older Hunter grumbled to himself. A quick glance out the kitchen window confirmed that John had made it to the deck and thunked down into a chair. Beside him, Jeff stood silently, arms folded across his chest. He glanced back toward the house and caught sight of Bobby, who burst out laughing when he saw the slow shake of Jeff’s head and his grin.

 

John’s explanation of what had happened earlier and his apology hadn’t gone down well. The gist of Dean’s reaction had been “go fuck yourself”. Jensen’s had been more - practical. And direct. Containing the rest of his laughter, Bobby turned toward the living room when he heard the sound of voices and hesitant footsteps. 

 

Tuesday and Nancy had decided that Jensen and Dean needed to be warmer and around people. Firmly, ignoring Dean’s protestations and Jensen’s quieter resistance, they had helped the two men to their feet, snatched blankets from the tumble of bedding crumpled on the mattresses and shepherded both men to the living room. 

 

“Are they coming?” Dean asked, still unwell enough to have an excuse for his wavering voice.

 

“They’re on their way, boys. Settle in and stay under those blankets.” Bobby frowned when Dean did as he was told without one word of complaint. Jensen shook his head silently at Bobby and turned on his side to face Dean. A moment later, Dean murmured something that Bobby didn’t quite catch.

 

Jensen curled up against Dean’s chest and lay half drowsing, afraid to let sleep take him. Dean’s fingers combed through Jensen’s short hair and he leaned down to kiss Jensen’s forehead: _I’m here. We’re here. Our Otherselves are on their way_. Jensen shivered and nestled closer, still seeing the blackness into which they had been drawn. 

 

The songs called to them: _We’re close. Not far. You’re safe. Safe. Safe._ Dean’s song had long since wrapped itself inside Sam’s embrace and he sighed as the aloneness subsided and his lover neared. Jensen moaned, a tiny sound as Jared’s song stroked his, loving, nearer. Both of them – all of them – saw their worlds close in tight until the songs held together and pulled them into each other.

 

The sound of the front door opening startled Jensen out of his concentration: he hadn’t heard the Impala pull up.

 

“Dean? Are you all right?”

 

Dean looked up and reached out with his free hand, fiercely tamping back tears of relief when Sam’s strong fingers wrapped around his. Jared knelt by Jensen and whispered, “I’m back.” 

 

Jensen’s eyes opened and he smiled for the first time all day. “Mine” rushed through his body, the word and the thought one, fire kindling as he rolled off the couch into Jared’s arms. “Mine!” And Jared replied, cock already stiff and throbbing. His hand brushed Jensen’s groin and felt the ridge of Jensen’s erection through his boxers. Jensen yanked at Jared’s jacket and shirt – ‘Off! _Now!_ Off! 

 

They clung to each other, skin to skin and mouth to mouth, fingers tracing the lines of each other’s faces, shadowing down muscles and tugging each other closer. _Closer!_ The ache in his cock driving him half mad, Jensen grabbed Jared’s right hand and clasped it around himself. Just the touch of Jared’s hand brought Jensen almost to orgasm. With an effort, he held back until he could coat himself with his pre-come and spit. No time for anything else. He’d gone into the darkness and almost lost the man he loved. And he was claiming him back. 

 

Before Jared knew what was happening, he found himself on his back and Jensen’s spit slicked fingers breaching him. In spite of the thundering need in him, the older man fought not to hurt his Otherself in any way. Jared shook his head and panted “Now! Now! Please…please now!” He wrapped his legs around Jensen’s waist and guided Jensen into him. “Mine!”

 

 

Sam moved more carefully with Dean, forcing himself to keep in mind that he had been near death only the day before. But also knowing that nothing on earth could keep them apart just then. Didn’t matter where they were, didn’t matter who saw them. All that mattered was that the person at the core of his life and he were together. That he could be inside his Otherself, to erase the memories of that darkness, that place that had almost claimed him and had drawn Dean onto the brink with him. 

 

Dimly, he heard Jared and Jensen as they joined, spit their only lube, not caring, needing. Needing _needingneeding_ each other. Banishing the darkness. Bringing each other back.

 

Fingers slathered with spit and their pre-come, Dean coated Sam’s aching erection and then opened himself roughly. No teasing, no slow temptation. _Nownownownownownow_. Inside me NOW. Sam tried to be careful, to be slow, but the looming shadow that had threatened to take them didn’t deserve one more instant of its miserable existence. Dean relaxed completely and Sam slid in one push, already coming. Dean arched against him and Sam clamped down on one nipple, pulling sharply as he came. A faint cry and Dean spilled hot and sticky between them. “I love you! Never alone. NEVER alone!” Sam repeated the words again and again as he covered Dean’s face and neck in caresses. 

 

Somewhere behind him, Sam heard Jensen call out Jared’s name as they closed the separation they had felt. Jared panted Jensen’s name back when he came, keening through the orgasm as if he had never experienced one before. Sounds to push away the silence, touch to push away the emptiness. Bodies joined to take back their lives.

 

Then, in the panting breathing afterward, little whispers, fingers touching lips trying to feel the words as they were formed. “I love you. Was so scared…where would I have been…you weren’t _there_ …you came back.” And “Just breathe. You’re here. I’m here. Safe – you’re safe. I’m with you. Here. I love you.” 

 

Jared tracing along Jensen’s eyelids and whispering “Safe – here – I won’t leave you again. No. Won’t. Ever.” Jensen leaving Jared’s body only when his cock slid free, too soft to keep contact. Then pulling Jared to lie on his side on the carpet, kissing him lazily as their minds sorted themselves out.

 

And then out of nowhere, Jared remembered. Relucatntly pushing aside the pleasant sleepy post-coital haze, he said, “Jensen! I called mom and dad. They’re there. They’re fine. They know who I am, know you. Said that your mom and dad are pretty upset. Something about us falling off the edge of the world-”

 

The smile on Jensen’s face hurt to look at it was so wide and bright. “Mom and Dad know who I am?” Sam and Dean both heard the joy in his words “I’ll tell you later, Dean. Ssshhh.” 

 

“They’re not all that happy with us, baby. Call ‘em now before they –“Jared’s cell phone rang. “Oh oh. You get it. My guess is that it’s for you.” By the third ring, Jensen flipped it open.

 

Ten minutes later, after being threatened with painful and protracted deaths should they ever try anything as stupid as going somewhere without telling people, Jensen closed the phone and turned back toward Jared. “Shower?”

 

“Oh crap! We’re in the middle of the living room!” The dismay on Jared’s face must have equaled the dismay on Dean’s face because Jensen and Sam broke out laughing at almost the same time. “Uh – the curtains’re open! Where is everyone? I’m cold!”

 

“We’ll crawl to the shower?”

 

Sam pushed himself to his feet and padded across the room to the windows completely oblivious to the fact that his admittedly hot body was visible to any passerby. After he’d closed the curtains, he turned back to the other three men and bowed. “At your service!”

 

“You’re only at my service,” Dean replied. He realized he couldn’t have stood if he wanted to. “Sam?”

 

“Right here, baby. Tired?”

 

“I’ll give you tired.” But Dean didn’t mean it. Sam helped him to his feet and gave Jared an arm up.

 

“Uh-“Jared knew his timing couldn’t have been worse, but he didn’t want his guilty conscience shouting at him any louder than it already was. “I think I-“

 

“Jensen?” Dean grinned as he spoke.

 

Jensen snickered and shook his head. 

 

Jared stared blankly at Sam, who stared equally blankly back. Both Dean and Jensen burst out laughing.

 

“I don’t think they understand. Let’s get to the shower. Hold me up and I’ll hold you up.” 

 

Flummoxed, Jared stared at his Otherself. “Wha’?”

 

“You and Sam kissed each other.” When the two Sasquatches gaped at them, Jensen broke into a grin. “True Met here! We knew.” Stumbling a little, he and Dean steered in the rough direction of the bathroom attached to his and Jared’s bedroom.

 

“Yeah. What he said.” Dean bit the inside of his mouth before he added, “We kissed, too. Of course, it was-“

 

“Let me guess,” Sam interrupted as he took caught up with his lover. “It was like you kissing yourself. Except that you’re better looking. Am I close?”

 

Dean would have slapped Sam up the back side of his head, but his arms felt heavier than anchors. Sam caught him around his shoulders and turned him toward their original bedroom and its _en suite_. “C’mon _gorgeous_. Time to clean up.” 

 

His look, when he glanced back at Jensen, was worried, but he still mouthed “Thank you.” Jensen blushed and shrugged. _I didn’t do anything._ Then, innocent as the driven snow, he looked up at Jared. “You should see the shiner I gave John. “ 

 

“You did _what_? I gotta see this!” Sam’s laughter nearly shook down the walls.

 

Seated on the deck in the back yard, John cringed and shifted the bag of frozen peas he held over his left eye. “I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?” he asked no one in particular.

 

“Uh, probably not,” Bobby replied before his own laughter joined Sam’s.

 

“Not as far as I can tell,” Tuesday added, doing her best not to make it three people out of three laughing at John’s expense.

 

“It’s a really nice day out here,” Jeff offered helpfully. 

 

“I am never going to live this down.” Glumly, John took another swallow of lemonade and sighed. “Ever.”


	28. Chapter 28

  
Author's notes: John was scribbling in his journal and this came sputtering out of his pen (John is hard on pens). The question in my mind is whether I should go any farther or leave things where they are now, possiblities open and probabilities relatively unknown. Do YOU want to hear more? I know the story back and forward, but I may be driving you right up the wall with it. I am seriously looking for your help. I thank you all for reading. You have no idea how much it means to me.  


* * *

Chapter 27

 

“There’s no such thing as “The Apocalypse”. There are the apocalypses, but no such thing as just one big fight for the whole shebang. One slam bang moment when everything that has been stops. Forever. And something new starts from the wreckage.

 

“There are tipping points, times when things can go wrong six ways to Sunday and then start on Monday. But the continuing happens. Things scrape just barely over the fence into safety while most of what is becomes what isn’t: The Permian Extinction, the Frozen Earth, the Great Dinosaur Extinction, Jeff Morgan walking into the Dreamspace unknowing and calling to me. I’m laughing at myself for my nerve writing that down. But it was a tipping point, a true one. 

 

“The three True Met pairs – a tipping point. Breckenridge safe behind wards for now – a tipping point. Tamsen House – still teetering on the brink, although I think we have a fair chance there. If the other end of that bridge holds. Mabon? More of a question. And one we have to find an answer to.

 

“The grandmother has called all the great Manitou and they may answer or they may not. They may already have begun acting on their own, because no one can say who or what moved the Tamsen House Bridge in the first place. I hope they will help, because they and their kindred in other places are of the planet, of this universe, and long lived.

 

“The high kindred of legend may be only that and not there to answer our request for help. If they do exist in what is emerging, the answering may come in my life time and may not. I don’t know.

 

 

“The cousin (we would call him) of Tehan of the D’nth says that he comes at his cousin’s request, and the oldest, least known and most legendary of the demon rides turns to aid us. I don’t know the reason. The cousin has not given me permission to use his name and I can’t break that custom. But there was great grief in his eyes when he looked at me. And I don’t know why. He won’t say. It’s the same expression Tehan had in his eyes that day at the bridge. 

 

“So damn many questions, so much happening. And we may not make it through today. We’re moving to Tamsen House. It’s time to reconnoiter, to see exactly what is or isn’t –yet- happening.

 

“As much as I don’t want to put anything down as a record for the wrong eyes to see, if we don’t make the end of the day intact, it’s important that something is left behind. Because, no matter what, things will continue.

 

“The question in my mind is: What?” 

 

John set down his pen and sighed before he looked over his should at Jeff, who read along as he had written and scratched out and written again. 

 

“Come on and have breakfast. The answer’ll be here when you need it to be. Your eye looks a lot better, I might add! Hey! That hurt!”

 

“What? Oh the goosing? Hmm…”

“John freakin’ Winchester, cut it OUT!”

 

Jeff turned and bolted for the Kelladys’ kitchen, John in hot pursuit.


	29. Chapter 28

  
Author's notes: This is a short chapter, I know.

The description of Tamson House is borrowed (loosely) from Charles de Lints in Moonheart.

Thank you for hanging in with me! I hope you enjoy...  


* * *

Chapter 28

 

“Dad, are you sure we can get through the wards without killing ourselves?” Sam stood next to John and spoke quietly. 

 

“Sam, will you stop worrying? We’ll be all right. The other day was a fluke. You were right about me pushing through too quickly. I hate bein’ in the middle of wards that heavy and I just reacted.”

 

Sam nodded and strode back to the porch to help Dean to the Impala and into the passenger seat. Although his brother protested – loudly – that he was strong enough to drive, Sam had almost lost him and wasn’t in any mood to argue. Jared climbed into the back seat with Jensen, and watched as Jeff jumped into the truck in front of them, turned and waved through the truck’s cab window at them. 

 

Meran and Cerin Kellady travelled lightly and would have walked the distance, but John had minced no words reminding them of the risks. Cerin had very little good to say about the bed of John’s truck after his last bouncing trip in it, but he settled with his harp and his and Meran’s small travelling bag when Meran agreed with John about the danger. For her part, Meran looked wistfully at the house they were leaving, not knowing if they would be returning to it. She barely noticed the Impala pulling out around them and moving away.

 

She had lived a very long time in her father's court, and she and Cerin had lived a long time in the home of each other’s love, but the little butter yellow house had become the quiet, welcoming place where their love worked its magic. There they shared their lives with friends and students, with passers-by in need of aid and passers-by who needed only a smile from the quiet, brown haired woman when she looked up from her small front garden.

 

“You’ll be back, my lady,” Jeff said softly as he hugged the Oak King’s daughter, daring greatly in so doing. 

 

“And you’ve seen this, mageling?” she questioned quietly.

 

“I have. In my heart.”

 

“Then I’ll keep that as a promise. John, we should leave.” John nodded, but paused to look up and down the street. 

 

“He left for Kellygnow early this morning.” Jeff watched as John’s shoulders slumped and he frowned. “John, he doesn’t mean you harm.”

 

“Jeff, the guy makes me edgy. That’s usually enough for me to be careful around someone.”

 

Jeff smiled. “Did I make you edgy?”

 

“Turned-on isn’t edgy. There’s a _big_ difference. Just in case you didn’t already know that.”

 

“Well, now that you mention it-“Jeff stared innocently at John. “Lessons? In the difference, I mean.”

 

John grinned and shook his head. “Whatever you want.”

 

“We’re three blocks behind Bobby and Sam,” Meran reminded John. She sympathized with the two love-struck True Mets, but she also knew that they needed to stay focused.

 

“What she said,” Jeff added. “And Cerin’s getting _edgy_ in the back. Actually, I think he’s more like pissed off.”

 

Laughing, John pulled his truck out into the street and sped up a bit to catch Bobby’s truck and the Impala.

 

****

 

“This road wasn’t here the last time.” Jared swallowed nervously and pulled Jensen tight against him. For his part, Jensen was perfectly happy to close his eyes and let his Otherself do the looking. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Jared and shrugged faintly. 

 

“We need to have the cousins safe inside the wards. Looks like the house knew that.” 

 

Jared and Jensen had seen so much over the preceding weeks that they hadn’t a clue whether Sam was kidding or serious. Dean, however, had no such illusions.

 

“You’re thinking that the house cast these wards? Sam, c’mon! I know it’s one side of the Bridge, but these wards are like jigsaw puzzles! Look at the connector over there. ” Dean pointed off to Sam’s left and up about 50 degrees. He thought for a few seconds and muttered, “We should know whose work this is.”

 

“Why should you know that?”

 

“Hunters, here, remember? Jared, we know a lot of different people. And the number of folks who can cast warding this complex is damn small.” Dean turned a professional eye on what he could see of the warding and studied it closely as the cousin eased through it. “Look – over there. See the sigil, Sam? I think it’s the maker’s mark.”

 

“I don’t – oh, yeah. It’s buried in that whole section about the doors. I don’t recognize it.”

 

“Neither do I.”

 

Behind the Impala and Bobby’s truck, the four people in John’s truck waded through the warding as slowly as the other two vehicles had. John had always left ward reading to Sam. His younger son possessed an almost instinctive ability to decipher what often looked to John as if a careless child had spilled finger paint and then walked in it. Above them and around them, intricate patterns that varied in color from goldbrown to an almost white arc of goldlight swept the sky and down to the earth. Jeff felt like he had walked into a kaleidoscope.

 

“Part of it is defensive. We saw that the other day. But the rest of it is designed to mask the House from anyone passing by, and to eliminate memories of the house should anyone see through the masking and attempt to cross the wards. There’s a lot of other craftwork here, as well.” Sam spoke absently as he examined what he could see of the warding. He squinted used a finger to trace in the air the outline of several converging arcs. “Hmmm-this goes deep into the earth. I wonder why.”

 

“We’re almost through, dudes,” Dean called over his shoulder. And ten seconds later, the hood of the Impala breached the inner margin of the wards. Its engine purring smoothly, the car rolled out of the barrier and onto the narrow lawn that lay along the front of Tamson House. Sam brought it to a halt by Bobby’s and John’s trucks.

 

Sam and Dean hadn’t said much more about the house than “It was built at the end of the 19th century by a rich guy named Tamson. He had money to burn and he wanted a house that kinda stood out so people could find it if they came to visit. ”

 

“Holy crap,” was Jared’s response to his first sight of the place.

 

“What you said,” Jensen echoed faintly. 

 

A polymath by inclination, and a specialist when one of his interests raised more than passing curiosity, Jared had been entangled by the looks Sam and Dean had exchanged while Dean had first mentioned Tamson. The faint grin and the “Just wait ‘til they see it” tone under Dean’s words had been enough bait to hook Jared’s curiosity. His imagination had embarked on a spree in the Possibilities Mall as he had contemplated what an immensely rich person in Ottawa at the end of the 19th century might do to make a home stand out.

 

Italianate villa? Not in keeping with the weather, but possible. Reconstruction of an American Adirondack summer home like Sagamore Hill? An underground home? Late 19th century, Canada, easy to find – scratch the underground home since it wouldn’t be simple to see unless-an underground home with a tower? 

 

Wide eyed, Jared stared out the windows of the car until Dean opened his door and tugged him out.

 

Tamson House started not ten yards from the edge of its warding. And it kept right on going. From Jared’s perspective, it stretched the equivalent of a rectangular city block both length and width wise. Staring down the long side of the red slate and redstone rectangle, he counted seven doors, all of them differing in color and size. 

 

He could see two corner towers that appeared to be either three or four stories high. The rest of the roofline wasn’t as clear: a façade could have been built to give the impression of height. However, windows pocked the walls at irregular intervals at the two story level, so he assumed that the home had at least that many. The number of outward facing windows was minimal – briefly his mind skittered over to the idea of a Roman villa with an atrium in the center. 

 

One of Jared’s guilty secrets was a fondness for a cable channel that dealt with home improvement, sales, and design. Half laughing at himself, he examined the front of the house in its setting, judging the curb appeal. 

 

Tamson House belonged where it stood. The wood of Kellygnow grew to the edge of the warding, and several huge red oak trees framed the view of the far front tower. Each of the doors, although unique in size and color, fitted perfectly with the rest of the building. 

 

The shorter side of the rectangle appeared to be similar to the longer, but Jared had already decided not to take anything at face value. He wanted to explore, could almost feel his feet pulling him toward a barely visible path that ran close to the building. But Jensen’s hand in his held him back.

 

“This is a freakin’ mansion!” was all Jensen could manage. “Look at it! Someone moved this? All of this? And when? It looks like it’s been here forever, not like it showed up a couple of weeks ago!”

 

“But that’s just it,” Jeff whispered to John. “It _shouldn’t_ fit. It shouldn’t be comfortable here. And it is.” They’d strolled over to stand next to Jared and Jensen because, John sensed, Jeff needed others close, and Sam and Dean had already headed off to the far end of the house front to check out the handiwork there.

 

“You said that the other day, Jeff.” Truly puzzled, John turned Jeff to face him instead of the house. “What was it that made you want to stay outside when we came here the first time?” He spoke quietly and, he hoped, soothingly, but Jeff’s eyes narrowed and his face flushed.

 

“You think I’m being an overemotional – an overemotional _chick_ , don’t you?” he snapped.

 

“No, I don’t. I think that you’re my Otherself and that something is worrying at you about Tamson House. I mean other than the fact that it’s a long way from where it’s been in the past. And the fact that there are wardings around it that were created by a master, and that that master doesn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. _And_ the fact that you’re hot as hell when you get that look on your face like ‘I hate it when John treats me like a child.’ Which, by the way, I’m not.” 

 

 

Jeff leaned in to John and sighed. “I just would feel better if it looked-I don’t know-if it looked like something had dropped it from the sky or something. A few boulders out of place, a window cracked or a door off its hinges. Something that looks like tons of stone and wood had been physically moved from Ottawa to Newford. I don’t know how far that is-“

 

“About 175 miles,” Sam interjected helpfully as he strode up.

 

“Okay 175 miles. It’s been here longer than we think.”

 

“The Jeffrey is right.” So quietly that John heard his footsteps at only the last second, Tehan’s mother’s sister’s first son approached from the short side of the house. “The earth is-“his black eyes simmered grey-gold as he translated mentally. “The earth holds the house easy.”

 

Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the forest, rifle in its scabbard on his back, knife in its sheath at his hip. As tall as Tehan, older by some years, d’rRn of the clan O-toewgh returned to his careful study of the forest, glad to be away from his charges for a bit.

 

Although he had dealt with humans occasionally, he had rarely spent more than an hour, two at most, with them at any one time. His leather work commanded sky high prices, and contracts for it regularly showed up in his e-mail, although, to look at his unadorned scabbard and sheath, no one would have guessed it. 

 

Being in close quarters with six humans caused some claustrophobia. Having to continually translate every word that he or they said and then to speak in human speech left him drained. Small wonder that he slept outside the house in his own car rather than remain inside.

 

The John Winchester and the Jeffrey Otherself – Tehan had cross the Un to speak to him face to face and asked that he guard the two. Asked as a life favor. Such request happened so infrequently that D’rRn had never thought to hear of one. 

“The John Winchester has demanded that I care for the clan. I cannot keep him safe, cannot keep the Jeffrey safe if I am there and he is here.”

 

“Tehan, did the John Winchester ask for you to guard him and the Otherself?”

 

“No.” D’rRn sensed the change in Te’s mood and continued questioning more cautiously. “Has the mother of your mother told you to guard him?”

 

“No.” _But something she said has caused you to take the charge, cousin. What, I wonder?_

 

“Te, the John Winchester is a human and mated. You are bedded by D’s. Do you care for the human?”

 

The instant he spoke, D’rRn was swept by a feeling of utter grief and pain so fierce that he stepped back. “I cannot know the reason.” He stated fact, relieving Tehan of the need to say the words. Whatever the reason might be, Tehan had been deeply scored upon learning it. Demons rarely displayed empathic powers, so Te’s broadcast had caught both him and D’rRn off guard.

 

Tehan’s eyes glowed deep sea-green as he regained control. Before he could say any more, D’rRn forestalled him with a quick nod. “I accept.”

 

“My life is yours.”

 

“And I give it back. This thing is deep enough that you traveled the Un to speak to me in person. I will guard the John Winchester and the Jeffrey Otherself.” A faint smile kindled in his black eyes and warmed them to gold grey. “And you must return to your clan, quickly.”

 

“Yes.” The formal tone that had surrounded their meeting dissolved as Tehan barked a laugh. “D’s is waiting at the other end. He threatened to come after me if I didn’t ‘get back here’. D’s in the Un isn’t something I would wish on any unsuspecting void.” They both laughed at that, even harder when they imagined D’s charging roughshod through an otherwise peaceful un-place.

 

They had shared mugs of bitter herb ale and then Te had walked into the Un. Ten minutes later, he called via cell and told D’rRn he’d arrived safely. Ah hour after that, D’rRn had departed for Newford.

 

****

 

“We should go in.” Meran spoke softly, as ever, but she meant her words. “We’ve been outside too long. And, unlike the one,” she nodded in the general direction that D’rRn had taken, “we can’t make ourselves nearly invisible.” 

 

Hanging on to John’s hand, Jeff followed the hunter as they walked along the front of Tamson House. At the fifth door, Meran climbed two steps to reach the knocker and let it hit the door, just once. When no one answered, she turned the door knob. It rotated smoothly in her hand and she walked in as soon as the door had opened wide enough.

 

“Coming! I’m coming! Stay in the entryway and I’ll be right there!” Evidently, someone had missed a guess as far as their choice of doors. The sound of rapid footsteps preceded the arrival of the owner of the voice.

 

Into the entry strode a woman of, perhaps, sixty years of age, five foot five inches tall, grey haired, deep blue eyed and bespectacled. She wore black knit slacks and a tunic top ablaze with Laurel Burch cats. Jensen’s first impression was that someone’s eccentric grandmother had been hired to care for the house. But the piercing intelligence in her eyes belied the notion that they were looking at someone’s nice little granny. 

 

Dean and Sam stepped a little to the front of both Jared and Jensen and John and Jeff. Neither one of them thought the older woman dangerous, but it didn’t hurt to take precautions. Their hostess nodded briskly.

 

“Well, now, I think introductions are in order. I’ll go first so you don’t have to spend time asking roundabout questions. I am Christabel Lux. I keep an eye on this place. Keep it safe, I mean.”

 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sam said politely, “Does that mean that you are the one who created the wards?”

 

“Yes. I have some small skill building them.” John peered intently at Christabel as she spoke the words and saw not a shred of false modesty about her. She meant exactly what she had said.

 

“You’re a mage?” Jeff asked shyly.

 

“No, mageling. I’m a witch.”


	30. Chapter 29

o, mageling. I’m a witch.”

 

Chapter 29

 

Jared just stared, first at Christabel, and then at Dean, waiting to see how the real Hunter would react: the character on TV loathed witches and anything that smacked of their craft. Standing beside him, Jensen muttered “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” sounding eerily like Billie Burke when he spoke. 

 

“What?” Jared asked. He’d heard Jensen’s words, but wasn’t exactly sure he believed they’d come out of his lover’s mouth.

 

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch? It was a line from the Wizard of Oz.” Christabel explained around her warm, decidedly non-cackly laughter. “No, healer. I’m neither. I’m myself and that keeps me very busy.”

 

“And you built the wards.” Dean was impressed: another Dean Winchester myth bit the dust, Jared thought wryly.

 

“I have a small gift, as I said. The house itself makes my gift richer. But here you are standing around when we could be more comfortable. Mr. Winchester-“

 

“I’m John. The mageling –and my Otherself - is Jeff. My sons: Sam – who will ask you questions until you scream for help; and Dean, also his Otherself – who knows better than to let Sam start. Here are Jared – who will ask you questions in between Sam’s questions; and Jensen, who is his Otherself and an untrained healer. You know Bobby, Nancy and Tuesday. Mer- where did she and Cerin -”

 

“They are walking in the garden, I believe.” Turning to Bobby, Christabel hugged him warmly, which brought a blush to his cheeks. Nancy and Tuesday each hugged her and shared a kiss to the forehead with her, for they had known her long.”It’s good to see you three again.” As they spoke, Christabel ushered them down a dimly lit, cool hall and then to the right into a large, book lined room with windows that faced toward the inner garden. “The demon is with you as well.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He’s welcome inside, although he may prefer sleeping in his car in the wood. Make yourselves comfortable!”

 

Dean realized that he was tired, which pissed him off. And he knew in a flash that Sam knew he was tired, which made him even more annoyed. _Enough!_ he thought to his lover. _I’m all right!_ Wisely, Sam murmured “I know” and pressed his palm against Dean’s back, sending warmth and love with the touch. _Good thing, too!_

Sam’s eyes rolled as he watched Dean stomp – politely – across the wide sitting room to the window opposite the hall by which they’d entered. He hitched himself up to sit on the wide sill and survey his surroundings.

 

John and Jeff appropriated an overstuffed settee covered in a dark green and gold William Morris print. Jeff did his best to sit next to, rather than on, John. He really did. John shook his head and patted his thigh. “Not until you feel safe, Jeff. C’mon. It’s all right.”

 

“I _feel_ like a dork,” he whispered into John’s ear. 

 

“You shouldn’t, Jeffrey.” Christabel smiled warmly and added, “You’ve done well. Don’t underestimate that. Please.”

 

“You were right about Meran and Cerin,” Dean called. “They’re walking in woods.” A shiver of discomfort snaked up Sam’s spine; he strolled across the room and came to a stop behind Dean, wrapping his arms around the shorter man as he did so. “Right over there.”

 

“Yup, that’s – Dean, I remember this forest! From when I was little! But it wasn’t here - it was in Ottawa. I almost got lost there! Man, were you and Dad mad when you found me! But it was in Ottawa!”

 

“Son, we weren’t angry. We were afraid that you’d gone into the forest. And that if you had, we might never find you.” Dean heard the memory of fear in John’s voice and held tightly to Sam’s forearm to keep him there. Safe.

 

Sam nodded absentmindedly and continued to stare at the trees of Tamson Wood. “I felt like – I was so small. I just stood still because Dee had said I should do that if I got lost. Stay still and listen for him and you Dad and then I’d be safe.” Inadvertently, he hugged Dean closer to himself. “I still fell small. Those trees are as big as sequoias!”

 

Curious about trees as big as the mighty redwoods of California and Oregon, Jensen joined Sam and Dean at the window. For a moment, he just stared. Before he could force himself to speak, Sam murmured, “Jared? Here. Now.”

 

Jensen made no bones about holding tightly to Jared. Witches and the Oak King’s Daughter and Cerin, who was older than he seemed. John Winchester and Sam and Dean and Jared almost taken from him: his mind backed away from the wash of images and he pressed close to his Otherself. “Jensen, those are memories. Just memories. I’m here and you’re here. In the now.”

 

“That forest-“Jensen said. “That forest –“

 

“It’s Tamson Forest, Jensen.” Christabel spoke softly lest she startle him. He shook his head no and then yes and then no again. “What do you mean?”

 

“It was on the Mogollon Rim in Arizona. Most of the trees there are pine. I was looking at them and then there was a stand of huge, huge oaks and maple trees. And birds signing that didn’t sound like the ones I’d been hearing all week. And the sunlight and-“his voice trailed off as he remembered. “We were on a camping trip, my family and my uncle’s family - I’d wandered a little bit away from the campers and there it was. There. Like that” pointing to the huge trees beyond a fountain in the middle of the garden. “Like that. I never told anyone because I almost thought I’d dreamed it myself. When I tried to find it again later, it had gone.”

 

Christabel’s clear blue eyes filled with dawning understanding. Thoughtfully, she tapped her lower lip with her left index finger. “I wonder why the Forest thought it was important to find you.”

 

Jared just shook his head. There were some points beyond which he couldn’t go, no matter how much he may have wanted to. Jensen, however, felt no constraints. “So the forest can think? The trees can move?”

 

“Oh, the trees think. Much like the cousins can think. In their way. As for moving – think of it more as sort of an astral projection. That’s not quite right, but I can’t think of a better example.”

 

Jensen let out a shaky sigh. Trees that project themselves. Forests that think. A Jensen Ackles that didn’t run screaming away from the massive amount of illogic around him. “As long as none of the trees talk. I like my Ents to stay in the Lord of the Rings,” he countered. Jared chuckled, and his gaze, when he looked into Jensen’s eyes, held only warmth and reassurance. “If you tell me I’m being brave, I’ll punch your diaphragm out your ass,” Jensen growled.

 

That image brought everyone up short. John started laughing and by the time that Jared and Jensen had walked over to a sofa dressed in its own Morris print, this one in reds and golds, the conversation had moved to other things.

 

Sam and Dean, however, remained at the periphery, caught in their memories. “You were six.”

 

“Seven, I think, right? Yeah – I had whats-er-name for 2nd grade. That old lady – Mrs. Blaisdell. I damn near didn’t make it to third grade.”

 

“Seven, then. And pretty shrimpy – you weren’t eating enough, no matter what we did.”

 

“I was fine. Dad and you worried too much. Hell, if I escaped getting lost in that,” he said, gesturing toward the immense forest, “I had to have been doing fine. And, besides –“

 

“Besides what?”

 

“It was the first time you kissed me. Really kissed me.”

 

Horrified, Dean spun on his heel and gaped at Sam. “You were asleep! You couldn’t have faked that! You’d been –“

 

“Awake for ten minutes, since you managed to slam the bedroom door behind you trying to be quiet. I didn’t want you to yell at me for being awake. And then I didn’t want you to stop kissing me, so I pretended to stay asleep.” Sam smiled, remembering.

 

Dean flushed crimson. “You never said anything! Why – “Sam’s right eyebrow shot up toward his hair line and he waited for Dean to finish the thought. “Oh”

 

“Dean, you were eleven, and I was seven. What did you think I would have done?”

 

“Sammy, I never did it again! Not until later –until we – aw hell!”

 

“No, you didn’t. But I did. Do you know you sleep like you’re hibernating? I think I could have- well, never mind and I didn’t know anything about jerking off, at least until I was nine – but if I’d known, I bet I could have jerked you off and you wouldn’t have known!”

 

“You did – what?”

 

“Kissed you,” And the laughter faded. “Every time you came back from a “test hunt”, every time you came home pissed off because you couldn’t go on a test hunt, every time you were sleeping deep enough. I’d kiss you. I fell in love with you when I was three, Dee. Kissing was gonna happen sooner or later.”

 

“Sammy.” Helplessly, Dean tried to think of something to say, and settled for pulling Sam close and down into a kiss as gentle as the first one he’d ever given him. “Sammy, I – you could have _what?_ You didn’t – I’d have known! I would have known! I don’t sleep that deep, Sam!”

 

“Oh yes you do!” Laughing, Sam kissed Dean again. “I love you.”

 

“I – oh crap!” The mental imagery alone was enough to make Dean wish he had a hole to hide in. And the fact that they were discussing major revelations in the same room with, among other people, John, caused him even more dismay. However, John was busy making out with Jeff just to “calm” him. And was entirely too involved to have heard his sons’ softly spoken words.

 

Jared and Jensen were careening rapidly toward a middle of the library floor fuck, which no one would have minded, but which would have distracted the two of them when they needed to be paying attention.

 

“Everyone? We should –“Christabel started. She stopped when she heard a firm knock at the front door nearest the library. “Excuse me – I’ll be right back. Bobby? Do you and Tuesday remember where the kitchen is?”

 

“Yup – C’mon – we’ll make coffee and find food. I feel like a cattle drive’s cook,” Bobby grumbled. “You six? Stop the loverin’. It could be anyone at the front door!” With that, he offered Tuesday his arm and they left the room, turned to the left again and headed toward the deeper recesses of the house.

 

 

D’rRn followed Christabel into the library. He nodded a short greeting to everyone and set his mind to the rigors of speaking humanEnglish. Before he could begin, John asked “May this one translate for the one?” in D’rRn’s language. 

 

His expression barely changing, D’rRn replied, “If the one wishes, it would be welcomed by the D’rRn.” 

 

“The one wishes.”

 

So D’rRn began to speak slowly, allowing John to set the pace. John wasn’t fluent in the variant that D’rRn used, but many of the words were similar enough to the demon mother-tongue used on the West Coast that he could manage.

 

“The John Winchester and others search for the one “Orange Lipstick Lady”: this one’s pronunciation is poor. Do you understand my words, the John Winchester?”

 

“I do.”

 

“I don’t.” Christabel cocked her head to one side and looked questioningly at John. “Orange Lipstick Lady?”

 

“It’s what we call her. We don’t know her name, but she’s the person behind a lot of what’s going on.”

 

“Short, dumpy, curly grayish white hair, interrupts conversations regularly?”

 

“That’s her.”

 

“Her name is Lucinda Larch.” Christabel informed them.

 

“How do you know that?” John asked sharply. D’rRn straightened his posture, prepared to defend the John and the Jeff, if need be. Jared shielded Jensen to keep him out of harm’s way if Christabel felt the need to throw a curse or a hex. 

 

“Well, that was an interesting reaction. John, I’ll explain if I may interrupt the one’s story for a few moments. Would such be possible?” she asked D’rRn in his own speech.

 

D’rRn nodded and stepped back toward one wall of bookshelves, finding a quiet shadow and listening from there. Watching the John Winchester and Jeffrey Otherself intently. 

 

Christabel caught everyone’s attention as she stared at each of them in turn. “About a year ago, maybe a little less, something I can only call a revivalist meeting arrived in Newford and stayed for a week. It was a typical tent event, I think. A lot of loud talk, good choral music, bad recorded instrumental music, and placards all over the city advertising the saving power something called Fate and Destiny. I assumed that Fate and Destiny was the topic for the entire tour and that Predestination had reappeared at the front of Christian theology. 

 

“At the end of the week, right on schedule, the revival moved on.

 

“But something else had happened. And kept on happening. Nothing blatant, mind you. Little things, like sidewalks showing cracks between one minute and the next. A slight increase in the number of Friday night altercations in bars. Weather dodging just the tiniest fraction so that plants bloomed earlier or later. A perfectly black rose, which growers have been trying to achieve for centuries suddenly blooming on a bush that had always produced red roses. Rose breasted grosbeaks nesting in Stanley Park in Vancouver, which is well out of their seasonal range. Nothing major, at least on the surface of things.” Her brow furrowed and she continued.

 

“And there were other things that most people wouldn’t have even known to look for. For several weeks after the revival had left, the manitou disappeared. There are manitous near cities, of course, and, in some cases, in city parks. On the day after the revival went its way, all I could feel was emptiness when I reached out for them to say good morning. I spoke to a mage in Nihon and learned that, when he reached out, the kami had withdrawn as well. 

 

“They returned, slowly. But there was a change in the air where they dwell. Not fear so much as guardedness. That was enough for me.” She sighed. “I began to deepen the wards around Tamson House and the Wood, and, when I thought them strong enough, I discharged my duty as caretaker and moved Tamson back two and a half steps right and three steps up. That’s when the house appeared in Kellygnow Wood. Actually, it had been there all along, but under and away.”

 

Dean and Sam just gaped at the thoughtful face of the hedge witch. “By yourself?” Sam wondered. “Alone?”

 

“I couldn’t risk asking others to help. And I had hid it safely in the first place. It’s better not to raise questions by bringing in strangers that watching eyes might notice.”

 

“I figured out that Lucinda Larch, although I didn’t know her name until a few weeks ago, might know something about some of the strange occurrences. Not all of them: things like a perfect black rose or birds nesting in a new spot didn’t seem to be interests of hers.

 

“But-“and her smile withered. “There were other things. The fighting at the bars – minor, but still a problem. Scattered fights between previously friendly neighbors. The disappearance of people living in the Tombs. I know, I know, they leave and come all the time, but the number started climbing. And some reappeared several days after they had been taken. Rather, what was left of them appeared. 

 

“The Nehigawok teen that Angelina Marceau called about, the one that was found wandering, lost, four hundred miles from home. Zulema was positive that he had no idea what had happened. One minute, he was on his way to the bathroom and the next he was walking at the edge of the Tombs. 

 

“A house disappeared from its foundations – over near the town hall. Two days later, it reappeared a mile from where it had been built. The family hadn’t been harmed. They had no memory of being – houseknapped? - and wouldn’t believe that they had lived anywhere but where the house reappeared.

 

“Christy Riddel captured a loose horse that he saw while he was walking home from a set at the Bodhran. It was as black as a Friesian, with feathering like one. He acted on an impulse and rode it bareback, waiting to see if it knew its way home.

 

“It did. To a camp of the Romany. The horse is a Vanner stud, and belonged to the head of the family.”

 

“There aren’t any Romany near Newford, at least as far as I know,” Nancy interjected.

 

“Indeed there aren’t. And the Romany are fey enough that they had sensed when their travels were leading them to places they never had intended to see. They have begun the trip home, but we have their promise of aid if we need it.”

 

“But where does O – Lucinda Larch fit in all of this?” Jeff asked softly.

 

“You might miss her if you didn’t know you should be looking for her. But she or one of her little band of merry people has been present at or near the scene of every strange thing that’s happened in this area. “Christabel’s eyes narrowed. “What’s happening is, according to Lucinda Larch, a symptom of the failure of people to follow their Fated Destiny. I talked to her – “

 

“What? Didn’t she – “

 

“Know who I was? No, not even a flicker. At first, she rattled on about the “signs” of “apocalypse”. How people’s ignoring the signs isn’t going to stop the storm from coming. I let her talk until she ran out of steam. I don’t think she liked that. She started warning of great evils walking the land, monsters shaped like men, creatures from legend coming to life. Then she handed me one of her tracts and stumped away.

 

“I hadn’t been able to get a word in with a shoehorn: she pressed over whatever I might have wanted to say. The woman’s blood pressure isn’t good. I can tell you that.”

 

Christabel’s expression, which had been sober, morphed to thunderous. “She’s the idiot who’s dabbling where no one who has a brain would ever go. Things are being loosed that should, by rights, be only imaginary, or that belong in otherwhens than here.”

 

“They were giant Orcs, weren’t they?” John asked quietly.

 

“Indeed they were. And are. Coyote has spent a lot of time-and, I might add, blood- keeping them under control. They’re worse than sewer rats. We were able to return the dragon and its mate to its proper home, but the people who saw it will never be the same. Nor, I think, will the dragons, sadly enough.”

 

“Christabel, may I?”

 

“Yes, my lady.”

 

“While Christabel kept note of things at the edge of reality as we know it and in the wild world, Cerin and I watched for changes in Newford and Mabon, and in smaller places nearby. Nancy and her sisters – all of her sisters, that is – made other contacts. 

 

“It’s like Christabel has said. The changes weren’t striking. But they were there, staring at us when we looked. Some of it’s directly linked to the merging of the two universes, but a great deal more can be traced back to someone using the loose energy created by that joinging to their own ends.”

 

“And of course, the three True Meetings happened.”

 

John’s gaze snapped to Nancy, Bobby and Tuesday. “We saw it and Christabel saw it at the same time,” Bobby grunted. “She called Nancy. And I was already on my way to the rez.”

 

“As soon as I was certain that they were True Meetings and that color songs – six color songs, no less – had been joined to their bearers and to each other – I realized that it was time to bring the bridge up in hopes of sparking your curiosity enough to get you here. I had to do it so that no one would suspect anything.”

 

John’s gun was out of its waist clip in one second flat. D’rRn blinked, realizing that some of the stories of the Winchester were far from exaggerated. Sam uncoiled, pushing Dean back behind him even as he drew his knife. Jared, to Sam’s surprise, beat Sam to the draw. “Sammy, I’m not a fucking invalid!” Dean snarled. Sam snapped back “Well, yeah, you are, actually. Now stay there!”

 

Bobby just covered his eyes with one palm and rued –again- the day he had ever decided to corral three True Met color singing pairs and keep them safe. Speaking with enough exaggerated patience to make a kindergarten teacher wince, he explained. Using small words.“Christabel means that she had to get you here without it looking like she was calling you. Now, sit down and listen! Idjits.”

 

With that, he jammed his John Deere cap down over this forehead, crossed his arms on his chest and glared at anyone who made a move to speak. 

 

“I had to do it so that no one watching me would suspect anything. I knew that the minute you left Breckenridge and its wards, you’d be targets. But we needed to pull attention away from the Breckenridge Window long enough to reinforce it completely. That’s been done. And I needed to speak to you, which could only safely be done here. And here you are.”

 

“The one D’rRn would speak.”

 

“I apologize for taking so long. Please continue.”

 

“The Christabel Lux does not understand. If the John Winchester-“

 

John nodded and waited for D’rRn to speak. “This one, D’rRn, saw another last night watching the home of the Oak King’s Daughter and the Cerin.” D’rRn hesitated for a moment, struggling to find words that would translate quickly.

He caught John’s gaze and spoke swiftly, in casual mode, hoping that the John Winchester understood the need for informality. “John, the man stood – he gestured near his own shoulder – tall. Brown hair. Eyes unseen. D’rRn followed the man when the man stopped watching. The man started across the bridge – he jerked his head partway around – but did not reach the other side. Not Un. There was a line of light. The man walked into it and it closed after him.”

 

John nodded and translated. Dead silence fell. 

 

Then, softly, Bobby spoke: “That explains why the road to Mabon in its now when has been unstable. They’ve put a door on the bridge. Bastards. “

 

“She’s in Mabon or nearby.” Christabel’s voice was strained. “We have to get her out of there.”

 

****

 

 

For a few seconds, silence returned, leaden, the far off sounds of storms in it. Then Jeff spoke. “I’m going to ask because no one else wants to. Why can’t we do something to make sure she stays in Mabon? It’s only partly real, or at least that’s what you said a few minutes ago. Why not just seal the way in and leave her and her Grimoire –“

 

Christabel’s eyes flashed. “Grimoire? Did you see it?”

 

“They all had ‘em. All of them had the word Grimoire written on the cover,” Jared explained. “Sort of like matching diaries, you know? Those women acted like teenage members of some secret club.” He managed to hold back his laughter, but only by dint of serious effort.

 

“I know. And, usually, I would agree with you. A Grimoire is kept private and is always unique. Or each has always been unique. Something else has happened here. Can you describe the book more clearly?” John’s brows knitted at the look on the witch’s face. “John? Did you see it? Them?”

 

“They looked like something someone would buy on-line. Same size, same type of binding but different colors. And all of them had “Grimoire” spelled out in gold on the front cover.”

 

Dean nodded agreement, but something nagged at him. He couldn’t remember what he’d seen, but it was there, right outside his sight. He unfocused his eyes and stopped listening to the conversation and “Except that one cover, the one Lucinda – baby has or had. It had Grimoire written on it, but not on the diagonal. And the gold was a different color. Damn thing still looked like she’d bought it on-line. There were flowers on it – those bittersweet things?”

 

Christabel nodded and made a mental note to research missing Grimoires to see if one with that description had been lost or stolen. Aloud, however, she brought up something far more important at that moment. “Lucinda Graciela Larch is exactly what she looks and sounds like: a middle aged woman on a mission to right things because that’s her destiny. I have no idea where she found her Grimoire or how. I don’t know if it’s real, although I have a feeling it is. But I do know where she grew up. And I’ve learned a little of her background. If I didn’t know how serious all that’s happening is, I would feel sorry for her.

 

“But it is serious. And the fact that she and her coterie have decided that Mabon is a good place to serve as their headquarters is even more of a problem.”

 

“Christabel?”

 

“Yes, healer?” Her gaze softened as she smiled at Jensen. 

 

“It’s because of Mabon being almost real, not almost imaginary.”

 

“Yes. Very good.”

 

“That’s my Otherself, “Jared murmured. He kissed the back of Jensen’s neck and nipped the skin lightly, felt Jensen push back into him with his shoulder. Christabel took note of the fact and also of the rising pulse of emotion in the room.

 

In the house. Tamson’s magic called to the singers and their songs, wrapped its history around them, and sang with them. All six men’s attention had switched to focus on their Otherselves. And, in the air around them, the color songs had begun to coalesce, each to its singer. 

 

“Christabel, d’you have any ideas?” Bobby muttered. 

 

“They have to wait. They must. John Winchester!” She spoke John’s name in a tone that brooked no nonsense. “John Winchester!” The two words snapped between John and Jeff and, momentarily, at least, broke the need to mate. “Listen to me. You are elder. You and your Otherself. There is no time for this. Control the others. They will listen to you! Now, John!”

 

Jeff whined a little into John’s neck, but he also whispered, “Intend, John. Call them back. There’s no time for this now.”

 

“Baby-boy, I don’t know what to do…”

 

“Call the songs to you and tell them what you told yours that night in the White Briar. Hurry, John. Jared and Jensen,” he hauled in a breath and ground the heel of his palm onto his erection, tried to think- “…are near to joining.”

 

“Oh hell…okay…” And, abruptly, he stepped out of his life as Otherself to Jeffrey Dean Morgan and into his role as senior of the True Met. “All of you! Listen to me!” He spoke the words at the same instant he ordered the color songs to sit the hell down, damnit! And wait. 

 

They did.

 

“Damn it, dad!” Dean snarled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“What I told him to do, youngling.” Less sternly, Christabel continued. “Jared, Jensen, listen to your elder.”

 

“I’m listening,” Jared growled. “But you better give me a damn good reason why my Otherself and I aren’t fucking right now. Jensen, are you all right?”

 

Jensen shivered and shook his head. “I came.” The blush on his cheeks burned. “I couldn’t stop. I’m sorry –“

 

“Jensen, ssshhh…it’s all right. I did, too!” Jared whispered as he placed Jensen’s hand over his damp crotch. Jensen smiled a little and dragged his attention back toward John.

 

“Christabel Lux, you had better do some quick explaining,” John panted. His erection still pushed against his jeans, and he was far from happy. 

 

“There’s no time for you to join now. I wish there was, because here is the place where the color singers and myth and time come together. But if we don’t get Lucinda Larch out of Mabon, and that Grimoire away from her, there’s no telling what more damage she’ll be able to do.

 

“We need to move - _now_. Not after you wake up from a post coital nap.”


	31. Chapter 30

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay and thank you for reading!  


* * *

“Do we have time to change clothes?”Jared snapped. 

 

Sam glanced over at the tall actor, his own body shaking with the effort of controlling the need to have Dean inside him. John exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything other than the hot, aching erection between his legs. Face buried in John’s shirt, Jeff hiccupped a breath as he lost control and came, hips stuttering and then thrusting. Which shattered John’s attempt to overcome something that he knew all the way through him no True Met pair should have had to deny.

 

“To hell with this,” Sam grated. Dean nodded agreement and tore frantically at Sam’s jeans, yanking them open. Within seconds, Sam mirrored his brother and wrapped his hand around Dean’s wet and throbbing cock. Their color songs swept up and curtained them in a wild helix that spun a column from floor to the ceiling 18 feet above. Dean wanted to be inside Sam, wanted it like few other things he’d desired in his life. But there was no time. Touching Sam’s cock at the same instant Sam grabbed his, he stroked it barely squeezing and felt Sam slip over the edge. Sam barely had an opportunity to slide his grip down Dean’s length before Dean growled and came.

 

Christabel sighed and shook her head as the energy in the room dissipated. “Damnit, Bobby, they haven’t been Met long enough!”

 

“Ya think? Christabel, we have to give them time.”

 

“We don’t have time, Bobby.”

 

Immediately, the hunter flicked his attention to her. “What’s up?”

 

“I’m not sure. But I think that something’s happened at the location.”

 

“I’m going to do some recon, then. Tuesday? You up to a little checking things out?”

 

“As long as you don’t play hero.”

 

“I don’t _play_ hero! I don’t have to,” Bobby grunted. Tuesday yanked the bill of his cap down over his eyes and snorted.

 

“Not too far. Stay inside the wards.”

 

“How can we explore if we’re staying inside the wards?”Tuesday muttered to Bobby as they walked down the front hall toward the kitchen.

 

“Wait and see.”

 

Before the Kelladys, Christabel and Nancy left the library, Christabel called out through the still pulsing color songs, “We have to move and move quickly. Pull yourselves together.” Her tone was calm, but her eyes were shadowed with outright worry. No one else spoke, and the True Met pairs lay still, resting, whispering each to the Otherself. 

 

John heard her words and frowned, deeply defensive of Jeff. Gently, he nuzzled the side of his lover’s face, reassuring himself that of Jeff’s presence. When he raised himself to glare in the feisty woman’s direction, however, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Above him, green gold darkened to the deepest of malachite and held still in one spot.

 

The growl that issued from his chest was feral, and his eyes slitted until only a glimmer of color showed. “GO!” He spat the word and it whiplashed through color songs, stirring the rest of the True Met and startling even the hedge witch. D’rRn shot a look at his charges and then a stare at the others who stood rooted to the floor.

 

“The one D’rRn will watch.”

 

“As the one wishes.”

 

“They will rest. Then we go.” He heard John’s whispers to Jeff and the soft voice of the actor in reply. When he looked back at his charges, John had fallen asleep with Jeff in his embrace. Jeff, for his part, leaned up a little and kissed John’s jaw before he found the Hunter’s thumb and wrapped his fingers around it. D’rRn’s eyes paled as emotion submerged the usual black.

 

“Te, what have you done?” was all he could think. “What have you done?” 

 

****

 

Tamson House had within it three different kitchens. Fortunately none of them changed location. Much. Christabel led everyone to the mid-century modern rendition, complete with metal cabinets and Formica counters in a charming grey and white faux pattern- pattern. Although the tubular metal kitchen chairs with their plastic covered seats and backs weren’t the most comfortable, Christabel sank down into the nearest one, and shut her eyes. Elbows on the table, she rested her head against her palms and thought silently. 

 

Her biggest concern had been finding the target. However, the instability of the True Met men had pushed finding the target into second place. She’d hoped that they had been Met long enough that they might not need to mate frequently. That they might be able to work despite the continual haze of joining that surrounded them.

 

She’d been wrong. 

 

“Christabel, have some coffee. They’re going to be out cold for at least an hour.”

 

“Don’t I know it. And I need them conscious and alert now. Well, there’s nothing for it. Unload the vehicles and bring the weapons inside: that’s our next move.” She knew she sounded like someone reading a shopping list and winced. 

 

“They have their keys.”

 

“We’ll talk to the cousins. That may be enough to get trunks and doors open. I wonder where the hell Bobby and Tuesday are. And don’t tell me they caught the meeting virus.”

 

Nancy smiled and let a laugh escape her. “No – they’ve been sometime lovers for as long as I can remember. Bobby’s just taking his time and figuring out the safest way into the location. There were a couple of leftover sandwiches –“

 

“Something escaped the two giants? Those men are off their feed!” 

 

“It’s the Meeting. Throws everyone out of kilter.”

 

Absently, Christabel munched on half a tuna and watercress sandwich while Meran and Cerin conferred and pointed out the most likely places within the bounds where help might already be working. “I think it’s safe for them to go this way, toward the house from the North border.”

 

“The Manitou walk their own paths. I don’t think the target has a clue that they even exist, much less any idea of what they truly are. ” Meran spoke softly and firmly. “My father is sending aid into the Wood. Trespassers don’t know what they’ll be up against.” A glint showed briefly in her usually mild eyes: Ceran found himself reminded, sharply, that he had married the Oak King’s Daughter. 

 

Apart from the discussion, Christabel sat waiting for Bobby and Tuesday’s return. She knew that something had gone off track. Dread spiraled up her spine as the moments became an hour and then ninety minutes. When Bobby cleared his throat at the kitchen’s swinging door, everyone jumped, startled.

 

‘Well?” Christabel took one look at the Hunter and knew before he said, “’There’s a problem,” that the news wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be. But he’d scratched his head under his cap, which meant he was more puzzled than anything. His blue eyes half hidden by his eyelids, he considered what he and Tuesday had seen.

 

“Spit it out. What’s the – “

 

“The location ain’t exactly where you thought it was.” Bobby hesitated for a few seconds, giving the ward weaver more than enough time to fill in the blanks. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

 

‘What do you mean by that?

 

“It ain’t where it was, but it is. At the same time.” 

 

“I don’t understand,” Christabel reined her temper in when she read Bobby’s expression more clearly and realized that he had no other way of explaining what he and Tuesday had or hadn’t seen. “Where’s Tuesday?”

 

“Getting’ her gear out of the truck. Have the lovebirds opened an eye yet?”

 

“I haven’t checked. John might take my head off this time.” Christabel had been more than a little intimidated by John’s reaction to her words. If she’d been any closer, she knew he would have gone after her as if she posed an actual, physical threat. 

 

“You know what the lore says about someone being True Met. He’s reading anyone within ten feet as dangerous to his Otherself. That bein’ said, John’s not usually one to lose control. Once he’s had a chance to sleep through –“

 

“Once I’ve had a chance to sleep through, what?” John had evidently found a shower because his hair was still damp. “What’d you find, Bobby?”

 

“Where’s Jeff?” 

 

“With D’rRn.” John stopped at the sound of his own words and spun on his heel. “With D’rRn.”

 

Jeff sat on the settee that he and John had commandeered. Standing beside the piece of furniture, the demon nodded in response to Jeff’s words, and repeated the last of them. John waited for the anger he had felt toward Christabel earlier to return. 

 

It didn’t.

 

D’rRn presented not an iota of threat. The demon had let Jeff hold his long knife; the weapon lay across his Otherself’s thighs. Jeff pointed to the hilt, listened as D’rRn said the word for that part of his weapon, and repeated it, his actor’s ears picking up nuance and stress immediately. D’rRn almost smiled when Jeff stumbled through a sentence. And John figured out what he was seeing: the demon was babysitting. 

 

D’rRn had heard the John Winchester’s footsteps and lifted his gaze to see if the one understood that he meant no harm. The John Winchester stared so hard D’rRn wondered if the one could see through skin. Abruptly, straight faced, the Hunter nodded and stood more calmly.

 

“The one Jeffrey woke. This one D’rRn told him where the John Winchester had gone.”

 

Jeff handed D’rRn’s sword back to him, right hand on the grip, resting the blade flat against the top of his left forearm so no fingerprints would mar the blade. “Thank you, the D’rRn,” he replied uncertainly. He had only heard the words he used twice before and hoped he hadn’t insulted the demon by speaking them.

 

D’rRn inclined his head and glanced up to see Jeffrey smile before he clambered to his feet and colted to John. “You went and had a shower by yourself!” Jeff winced as his sticky underwear scraped against his skin. “You could have, oh maybe, waked me up.”

 

“If we had had a shower together, we’d still be there,” John chuckled. “And I have a feeling that Christabel would be very unhappy about that. Sam and Dean and Jared and Jensen are cleaned up. Come on, and I’ll talk to you while you catch up with the rest of us, sleeping beauty.” John turned to look at the demon. “This one thanks you, D’rRn for watching the Jeffrey Otherself.”

 

“It is my honor.” What else D’rRn might have said, he kept to himself. When John and Jeff reappeared twenty minutes later, he followed them down the labyrinthine hall toward the sound of people talking. And weapons being examined. He would have known those sounds two hundred feet away in a deafening thunderstorm.

 

“Bobby’s telling us about the location. I think.” Sam grunted. He triple checked his shotgun and nodded toward Dean. “I’m set.”

 

“I don’t know how the hell else to explain it, Christabel.” Bobby had clearly reached his wits’ end as far as describing what he’d seen. “One more time - the location was there. You agree, Tuesday?”

 

“Yes. I saw it.” Tuesday sounded as uncertain as Bobby did, however. Not for the first time, she wished that Grandmother Spider could have seen what they had. But that being had its legs full with other problems.

 

“But it wasn’t - it wasn’t right. There’s something – hell, I guess the only way is to show you. We need to get on the road. Day’s wasting.”

 

D’rRn hesitated before he spoke. But the one Bobby spoke of something he had sensed before, at other times. “The location is drifting.”

 

“That’s what I thought, D’rRn. But it’s more than that. It’s not fading. If anything, it’s becoming clearer. In a…the colors of the buildings are all wrong. I mean they’re the same colors that they were the last time I walked there, but not really. Damn! I should have taken pictures with my cell, but I didn’t know whether that’d work. ” 

 

“The target is there. Inside the location?” D’rRn spoke quickly to John, who translated. “Then the location is reacting to the target, perhaps?”

 

Nancy nodded slowly. “That’s possible. The target has some abilities. We know that. It’s possible that the target isn’t paying full attention to those abilities and they are acting without her conscious knowledge.”

 

“Why am I not feeling all warm and cozy after you say that?” Sam observed. 

 

“Part of me wants to stay clear of the location. Part of me thinks that the location will resist us entering. And the rest of me is damn tired of saying target and location.” Bobby folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the Formica counter.

 

‘One last thing.” Christabel turned and pulled a roll of paper off the stove top behind her and spread the sheet across the top of the table. “This is Tamson House.” What they all saw was a beautifully detailed floor plan of the house around them.

 

Sam started to ask a question, but Dean forestalled him. “Let the lady talk, Sammy.”

 

“I was just gonna ask what we needed the house plan for –“Sam murmured.

 

“And then ask who drew it up and how old it was and whether any additions were made to the house after it was drawn.” Dean grinned at Sam’s discomfort. “I know you, baby.”

 

“Yes, it’s an accurate floor plan. Here,” and she pointed to a blank space at the northeast edge of the map, “is where we need to be. And we’re going through the House to do it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Through the house. Without the cars?” Dean felt his chest tighten at the thought of leaving the Impala too far away to use it for a quick escape. 

 

“Dean, if this works, we’ll be in and out before anyone really notices. We won’t need the cousins. “

 

“I don’t like this. Not one damn bit,” Dean barked. “What if we have to walk ten miles to get where we need to be? “

 

“We won’t. The target should be here.”

 

“Should be? Should be? I’m not taking Sammy into someplace that _should_ be there, not without a way out that doesn’t mean runnin’ and hidin’ in territory that never stops changing!”

 

“Dean, when Tuesday and I went on recon, the location was there. It had changed appearance. That’s all.”

 

“I’m with Dean on this. Jensen, no. It’s just common sense.” Jared’s voice rumbled ominously. “We should be bringing the cars.” Jensen looked up at him and they drifted off into their own space, ignoring the others. Again.

 

“Chrys, we should think at least about taking the cars.” Tuesday interjected. “Time’s too malleable there.”

 

“And vehicles are too obvious. Tuesday, especially those vehicles. They’re cousins! Don’t forget that.”

 

“And we may need them.”

 

Conversations spiked the air as everyone waded in with an opinion. Amid the increasing volumes, Jeff felt John go very quiet next to him and turned to look into his lover’s eyes. “John, I am not staying here.”

 

“Baby boy – I don’t want you going into danger like this.”

 

“John! I’m coming with you. And that’s the end of it.” Jeff winced and tugged away from the anger in the voices around him. “This has to stop!” Abruptly, he stomped into his role as John Winchester, startling both himself and John considerably. “Christabel, what’re the chances that things have changed enough that we’ll need transport? Give it your best guess.”

 

“Bobby?”

 

“I’d say maybe twenty percent.” Bobby had thought the entire scenario through and his estimate seemed pretty acceptable to him. 

 

“Then we go. And we go the way that Christabel has showed us. Meran, Cerin, please stay here,” Jeff didn’t know if Meran understood why he was asking that, but she nodded briefly and almost smiled. “John, we have to do this.”

 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Dean whispered to Sam. “Did you see that? Sammy? Baby, what’s wrong?”

 

“He sounds like Dad – just like Dad. “ Sam blinked as quickly as he could, dashing the tears before they fell. “He’s been part of Dad for so long that they are almost each other.” Dean grabbed Sam’s left hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I’m okay, man.”

 

“Chrys, once we get through, we aren’t going to sit around talking. You, Bobby and Tuesday, take point. You’ve all been to the location recently. John and I’ll stay with Nancy, Jared and Jensen. No! Not a word!” Jeff snapped, rounding on the two actors before they could complete a sentence. “You haven’t hunted. And we don’t know what’ll be hunting us. Sam and Dean?” Jeff felt John’s arm and leaned on it, astonished at his own temerity John coughed softly, obviously trying to avoid laughing. Which didn’t bother Jeff one bit. At least all the nattering about had stopped!

 

“We’ll take the flanks, if D’rRn is willing to take rear guard.” The demon thought for a moment and then nodded. As long as his two charges walked within eyesight, he knew he could protect them.

 

“How are we supposed to do this? I mean, the house is big, but it doesn’t stretch all the way to the edge of that floor plan – well, it _does_ stretch to the edge of the floor plan, but there’s paper between the house and the space.” Flustered, Jared stumbled to a stop. When he looked around, everyone did their best not to chuckle. “All right, assholes. You know what I meant.”

 

Christabel nodded and sighed. She didn’t particularly care for unnecessary displays of her talent, but speaking or even writing on paper her next words was something she wanted even less. So, using the same gift that allowed her to create wards of great intricacy and beauty, she wrote on the air _‘The House is the Bridge. Intent will get us there.’_

 

When everyone had had the opportunity to read the ten words, she scattered them to the elements with a quick swipe of one hand. Without another word, they left the kitchen and headed down the hall by which they’d entered the house in the first place.

 

Sam’s curiosity only increased the farther they went. He counted as he passed the remaining doorways between the one by which they’d entered and the far end of the house’s front. In between doors, he dragged his feet, craning his neck to catch glimpses of the rooms they passed. Two or three times, they walked through large, open rooms that had evidently been built after the hall, since the floor of the hall bisected the carpeted spaces. The walls were hung with paintings or tapestries, and the materials the wall material itself differed from place to place. Dean had to haul his brother along physically to keep him from venturing into this or that intriguing space or from sitting down and looking around himself in one room with granite walls. All Dean could do was thank his lucky stars that Chrys wasn’t in the mood to answer the several thousand questions his brother had boiling in his mind.

 

At what Sam thought was the end of the front hall, they made a sharp left followed by a sharp right. Two seconds later, they stepped outside. Literally.

 

Christabel hadn’t led them through a wall or created a door. Sam didn’t remember stepping left. He had started a footstep in one of Tamson’s wood floored halls and ended that footstep on an old paved road. In the sun and wind of autumn. 

 

In the open in territory they didn’t know.

 

“Everyone, stay together here.”

 

John, Bobby and Sam and Dean conferred once more, briefly, with D’rRn, not talking that much, more nodding in general directions and then pointing. Dean headed off wide to the left on a flanking line and Sam moved as silent as smoke across the field that lay at the edge of the road to the right. Bobby stayed in close at the head of the group, and D’rRn took the last slot, not far behind, but out enough to keep both Sam and Dean in his line of sight.

 

John wanted to be where his sons were, but he knew that the real weakness to their group was huddled around Nancy. For his part, Jeff checked his shotgun and stood waiting beside his lover. Jared and Jensen followed suit. They were sharper than they had been a few days earlier, but they had nowhere near the experience necessary for a situation like the one that faced them. The fact that they didn’t agree with him didn’t make a dent in his decision.

 

Something else didn’t sit right. John felt it like a cramp between his shoulder blades. A quick glance at Christabel didn’t make him feel any better. She turned in a slow circle, Deseil, examining the horizon as it receded and then came closer under the trees in the wood. He could almost hear it before she said it.

 

“We’re not where we should be.”

 

“I do not want to hear that.”

 

“We’re not far off – we should be another half mile up the road. But we should be there, and we aren’t. This part of the when is stable, has been for decades.”

 

John and Bobby thought for a moment and nodded at each other. “We head toward where we should have been. Then we’ll figure out what’s happening. I hope.” He punched Dean’s cell number and explained what they needed to do. 

 

The hunters and D’rRn strode steadily through the autumn golden brown countryside each step silent. Weapons ready, they listened to and categorized the sounds of the little beasts that skittered through late autumn grasses or chattered quietly in the trees. They disregarded the blanket of stillness that descended as they edged forward and then picked up as soon as they had passed. John would have gone on alert if there hadn’t been that reaction to the presence of strangers. 

 

Abruptly, Dean wheeled and signaled “Down”. Immediately, John hissed, “Drop. Keep your faces down. Don’t move!” And led by example. 

 

No looking up – the sunlight had faded a bit as the day had waned, but there was still enough to highlight open skin and warn an enemy that they laid there. Beside John, Jeff lay in a heap of clothes that were too big for him. He had elected to wear John’s old jacket and one of John’s shirts. He would have worn John’s boxers if he could have. And he wished he had Dean’s heavy boots, although he could shake in his own just as well as he could in Dean’s. He reached for John’s hand and started breathing again when John squeezed his fingers. Silver blue curled safely inside gold green, and Jeff rested a little easier, clutched his shotgun with his free hand. 

 

Dean saw Sam raise a hand and point quickly off at an angle around the corner of the road. At the same moment, Dean heard the sound of a car. Then two more. He glanced back at Sam who raised an open hand, then fisted it once and opened it again.

 

Ten. 

 

Dean signaled to D’rRn, a half circle and a pointing index finger toward Sam. D’rRn waved sharply headed swiftly across the field toward Sam’s location. Dean raced across the road and up the slight incline at the far edge of the field. In perfect unison, the three hunters dropped out of sight as the first vehicle rounded the curve.

 

Sam counted silently. Jeep, carrying two. Jeep – carrying two. Troop carrier with four seated in back, two in the cab. Ten. Everyone armed, but no apparent armament on the vehicles themselves. Moving no more than ten miles an hour, but no one standing up for a longer view. No one walking ahead. Sam thought he could make out uniforms, but they were still out of easy eyeshot. 

 

Then the Jeeps and the troop carrier stopped. _Son of a bitch! Keep moving_. Dean thought about his Dad and the others, not able to look, not knowing what the situation was. One of the occupants of the first Jeep climbed out of the car and slowly walked toward the part of the road next to John’s hiding place. Beside Dean, Sam went even more silent, waiting, watching. 

 

D’rRn felt the air shift around the man who’d left the Jeep and knew before anyone that he’d spotted something. A silent wave to the rest of the men in the vehicles brought them scrambling, but silent as a SWAT team, onto the battered road. 

 

“Take ‘em out,” Dean signaled. Before he’d finished the hand motion, Sam’s rifle coughed. D’rRn’s spoke more sharply. Three. Seven more. And only a few more seconds of advantage. Dean’s bullets found two more.

 

And then John’s sawed off shotgun roared, accompanied by Bobby’s rifle. Jared stayed low: Dean could barely make him out as he, Sam, and D’rRn closed the gap between themselves and the remaining attackers. 

 

Those, more fearful, evidently, of something other than death, had gone into motion toward Jared, Jensen and Jeff. Two fell immediately snapping upright and then breaking apart from the neck up and shuddering back to the ground. One managed to get a hand on Nancy. He never knew what hit him. Out of nowhere, Jeff’s shotgun spoke, and only one man remained of the ten who’d started toward them forty-five seconds before.

 

The Grandmother’s shadow loomed so tall that everyone still standing was hidden by it. The last of the men in the vehicles took one look at her and, from the way he clutched at this chest and stumbled forward, face down, died of fright.

 

“I cannot stay,” they heard. “Go!” and the great shadow faded like smoke. Jared thought he heard the sound of gunfire and shouting, but it stopped so suddenly that he decided he’d blacked out. 

 

John turned and looked closely at Jeff, who stood, rifle in hand, face stony still. “Baby boy –“

 

“I killed him.” Jeff had begun to shake. But his voice stayed even, a dull, fading monotone. “I killed him. It was real. I killed him.”

 

“Before he could hurt Nancy. Yes. You did.” John threaded his way cautiously through the conversation. He and Jeff looked very much alike, and there was a streak of strength and command in Jeff. But the man had never taken another life. No matter what the circumstances, John knew, killing something was never done lightly. Hunters didn’t kill humans, unless there was no choice. Sometimes there was no choice at all. He also knew that Jeff needed to deal in his own way with his first battle death.

 

For so long that John feared he’d fallen into shock induced withdrawal, Jeff stared at the ground and then at his weapon. Finally, when his body’s shaking had reached cataclysmic levels, he reached out for John’s hand and twined his fingers with the hunter’s. Immediately, his Otherself’s stormy emotions swamped John. The hunter’s mind echoed Jeff’s thoughts, and his regret and pain tore through John’s unready defenses. John groaned and bent under the stress, but never released Jeff’s hand.

 

“Dad! Dean – “

 

“Sammy, they have to do this. We can’t help! Jared! Keep Jensen there! He can’t heal this!” Dean felt the edges of Jeff’s fear and despair when he reached out toward him mentally and shuddered under it. “Dad – help him!”

 

D’rRn’s face had already gone white, and his eyes glowed blue, distress for his charges supplemented by the prospect of telling Te that he had not kept the John Winchester and the Jeffrey Otherself from harm. He didn’t understand their bond, but he did see that it could be destructive when something like what was happening in front of him came on them unaware. He had learned a little of the True Meeting they spoke of, enough to know that he wasn’t going to be entangled by it. Bitterly, he realized that he’d been entangled by something else altogether. 

 

A deep inhalation and he steadied his hearts’ beats, sheathed his rifle and stepped between the John Winchester and the Jeffrey Otherself. Made a fist of his right hand and broke the hold each had on the other. Then stood like a wall himself as they first sagged back and then attempted to push past him to reconnect.

 

D’rRn saw the color songs before he heard them and knew he faced his own death. The greengold the John Winchester carried roared as deeply and fiercely as any mountain cat. The silver blue of the Jeffrey Otherself spat in outrage, smaller, but as deadly. “No. You may not join to share this pain. You may not. You harm your Colorsingers. This one will not allow it. You. May. Not.” He spoke in English, fighting against the colorsongs’ buffeting, never shouting. Simply requiring.

 

He couldn’t breathe. There was no air. But, and he looked slowly toward John, the John Winchester lived. Behind him, beyond where he could turn his heavy head, he knew the Jeffrey Otherself lived. That would have to be enough. And he let himself lose consciousness and topple to the ground.

 

“No! No! Damn you, get out of his mind! Release him! Or I swear I’ll banish you!” John roared the words. “Sit your greengold ass down and let him alone! Now!”

 

“You heard John! Damnit, you idiot silverblue bundle of notes! Let D’rRn go!”

 

The color songs collapsed immediately and completely. “Goddamn son of a bitch!” John skidded over and went to his knees beside D’rRn’s body. ‘You get your eyes open, damnit! Now!” No reaction. Under his questing fingertips, he felt a thready double pulse. “C’mon. You’re breathing. C’mon.”

 

Jeff looked across D’rRn’s still form at his lover. “Is he?”

 

“Breathing? Yeah. Barely. C’mon, D’rRn. I know you’re there. Open those black eyes and look at me.”

 

He heard words fading in and out. A rib hurt. His lungs felt like they’d been removed and used for target practice. But he hadn’t died. And the two charges had lived. His eyelids felt like lead. But he managed to open them and focus in on the John Winchester. The hunter frowned down at him, his dark brown eyes full of concern. “…all … well,” D’rRn whispered. “City. Target. Now.”

 

“Well, at least we have something to ride in.” Sam stated. Dean and Bobby had retrieved the lorry and driven it back to their little group. “Dad, if you can leave D’rRn, you need to see this.” The disbelief in Sam’s voice overrode the distaste that also lurked there.

 

“What?”

 

“An orc. At least that’s what I’d call it. An orc in a uniform with a silk T-shirt.”


	32. Chapter 31

  
Author's notes: One more after this, at least I think so!  


* * *

Chapter 31

 

 

“Do we have everything packed?” Mr. Truepenny asked William Merritt. After becoming waylaid in Mabon, Will had approached the book and art store owner about a position. He suited the shop and the shop suited him, which was all the reference that his tall, bespectacled boss required. 

 

“Everything’s ready, sir.” Will frowned as he stared out the shop window at the street in front of the store. “Wasn’t there a sidewalk here last night? Sir, what’s going on? “

 

“Don’t worry, Will. We’re packing against eventualities. You and your family will be fine.” For a heartbeat, Mr. Truepenny’s eyes filled with a wistfulness that Will didn’t notice. 

 

“I don’t understand, sir.”

 

“Neither do I.I just know that it was time to pack.”

 

They smiled tentatively at the absurdity of the situation and stared out the front window again. Two crows spun and wheeled as they tumbled through the morning air. “The Crow Girls?”

 

“The same. That’s interesting. Something’s happening. Well, more than the usual something that happens, I mean.” Thoughtfully, Mr. Truepenny chewed on the stem of his unlit pipe and shot another glance up to Miss Larch’s empty office window. 

 

****

 

From his stool behind the main counter, Mr. Truepenny watched the pudgy, grey ringleted woman wearing entirely too much fuchsia lipstick and unflatteringly heavy facial makeup as she swept across the floor toward him. He was reminded of a picture of a dust storm barreling through Oklahoma in the 1930s; the comparison didn’t make him smile. 

 

Under her left arm, she had tucked a hand bound book more than five inches thick. A locked silver clasp connected front and back covers, which someone had painted a garish shade of autumnal orange and completed the transformation by twining sprigs of bittersweet among the gilt calligraphy that announced to the world that the book was a Grimoire.

 

Nothing, however, could have hidden the book’s true nature from Mr. Truepenny’s knowledgeable gaze. He had spent much of his life in the search for and study of rare texts. The unconcerned way in which his new neighbor had handled what was clearly a volume of considerable age surprised and, indeed, disturbed him.

After some polite territory establishing, Miss Larch handed the heavy tome to Mr. Truepenny. The lock had not been closed and he had glanced down at the woman across the counter. “Has the key been misplaced? If it has, I might be able to find a locksmith to make a new one.”

 

“No, no…I put it…yes, here it is.” From the recesses of a tiny burgundy velour handbag, Miss Larch had retrieved the key to the book’s lock. “I don’t understand why it should be treated as if it’s a treasure. It’s a diary and most of the pages are blank! There are several pages of what look like hieroglyphics at the end of it. I still don’t understand them completely. I’ve wondered for years whether this is truly a Grimoire.”

 

“It is, indeed,” he had confirmed, not revealing that each page his traced an index finger over was replete with words written in an exceptionally legible hand. His glances had been brief, but he caught several words that showed up more and more frequently in the later sections of what Miss Larch saw as an empty book. 

 

And the book felt warm. Warmer than it should have after being tucked under Ms. Larch’s admittedly ample arm and next to her equally well padded side.

 

As he had carefully lifted and turned page after page, Mr. Truepenny continued to chat and to make careful note of Miss Larch’s expressions. He’d seen that particular combination of possessiveness and uneasiness a number of times over his years as a rare book collector. It invariably meant that the Book in Question had been ill-got. When the Book in Question bore the writings of a remarkable individual, and when the new possessor of the book believed it to be nothing more than a curiosity or a diary, the situation went from uncomfortable to serious.

 

He had cautioned her as strongly as possible without revealing the he knew she’d taken it from its rightful owner. Her blithe response still rang in his ears. 

 

“I’ve been reading this book for several years, and I don’t recall anyone around me growing cat’s ears and a tail, Mr. Truepenny. I use this as a meditation tool. Not that I say anything out loud – if someone were to overhear me, they’d think I’d lost my mind. But it’s comforting to repeat sentences over and again until I stop worrying about other things.” Before he asked any more questions in an attempt to identify the original owner of the Grimoire, Miss Larch had departe

 

“I should be going: I’m still unpacking, as you can imagine. Once I’m settled, I’ll come back and look at the art work you have for sale. Thank you for your time.”

 

 

As soon as he could be certain the woman wouldn’t be returning immediately, he’d asked Will to cover the counter and hurried back to his office, a former broom closet and supply storage area. 

 

Miss Larch had a Grimoire. Mr. Truepenny had Google. He’d begun with Miss Larch’s birthplace- she’d mentioned it in passing while they exchanged pleasantries - and researched well into the night. 

 

He’d amassed scant information, but he thought that his research couple with the phrases he’d seen on the blank pages that Miss Larch complained about provided an outline of what might have happened. One name other than Lucinda Larch stood out. Eudora Johnson’s name appeared in several places, most importantly, in an obituary. “The Johnson Grimoire. No wonder –“he whispered to himself. Around him the small office had seemed to shrink. “What in the name of the fates can I do about this?”

 

He’d heard rumors about the Johnson Grimoire for years. But, as was common with single practitioners, Mrs. Johnson had maintained a low profile; not even the most basic information was readily available. However, one piece of data lay beyond Mrs. Johnson’s control. The newspaper in which her obituary had been posted had progressed from using microfiche to digital scanning, and Mr. Truepenny located her obituary after half an hour’s search.

 

 

_Eudora Johnson had spent her adult life as a sole practitioner, and her Grimoire had filled itself with information associated with her work as a healer. She had outlived the rest of her family, and, as she approached her final moments, she found herself faced with a dilemma._

_She knew Lucinda Larch very well, and had from the first time Lucinda had invited herself in for a cup of lemon tea. That brief meeting had alarmed Eudora Johnson to the point that she had remained awake until late into the night thinking about what Lucinda Larch might be if she weren’t so grimly dedicated to crushing her true spirit under the wheel of non-Sight. Long before Lucinda had asked if she might be able to help Mrs. Johnson around the house to relieve her from heavier tasks, Eudora had resolved to allow Lucinda to enter her employ. She hadn’t done so out of self pride in her healing skills; she’d brought Lucinda into her house in a last ditch attempt to rescue the woman._

_The risks had been great and the possibility of success extremely small. As one year became two and then three, Eudora’s goal changed to match the cold reality of the situation. Lucinda Larch had been born with The Sight and had refused it from its first manifestations. She saw three dimensions because more than three weren’t conceivable. Eudora ultimately admitted to herself that she didn’t have the time she needed to cure her live- in attendant. Lucinda didn’t see herself as in need of help, of course, but the stubbornness with which she clung to that opinion was monumental._

_The healer had allowed Lucinda to read some of the most commonly known information in the Grimoire in an attempt to open some type of imagination in Miss Larch’s mind. In fact, Lucinda often wondered to herself why such a small amount of information had been put into such a large book. The part of her mind where her imagination had resided in her infancy had wondered, but so firm was Lucinda’s belief in the three dimensional that her speculations sputtered out of existence almost immediately. Yet, when Mrs. Johnson had told her to burn the Grimoire, Lucinda hadn’t._

_Lucinda hadn’t. Mrs. Johnson knew that she hadn’t. And there was nothing Mrs. Johnson was able to do except to bless the entirely unblessable Lucinda Larch and hope that she didn’t see what there truly was to see in the Grimoire. Mrs. Johnson had spent her life healing the sick and weary of heart, with no thought of recompense. The contents of the Grimoire reflected her life and what she had learned. In the hands of the wrong person, however, the Grimoire possessed the potential to do grave harm._

_Then, at the edge of memory, Eudora Johnson turned a page inside a page of the Grimoire._

_And recalled that there was one other thing she could do. If she had the strength and if Lucinda’s stubborn refusal to consider the magical side of things was not a ruse._

_As her eyes closed for the last time, Eudora Johnson willed her spirit into the book to protect it. She knew that the action was both risky and likely to fail. Yet she saw no other way to deal with the situation._

 

Mr. Truepenny sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose, knowing that he’d sussed out a viable story. The only good thing out of all of it was the fact that Lucinda Larch had not the faintest idea what she had in her possession. 

 

He hoped. Even the scratchy, tiny letters of the pages at the end of the book would have been beyond her skill to understand, unless she had spent a great deal of time and energy working them. He’d caught a glimpse of words like “Joining” and “Merging” and “Bridges” and a phrase that seemed to be “that which isn’t seen” and had coupled them with what he knew of Lucinda’s personality. His lips tightened. 

 

William Merritt glanced up when he heard the sound of a truck making its way over rough cobbles. There was nothing unusual about it: he thought it might be the truck that had left Mabon earlier, on rounds. But only one person drove it. And she didn’t look much like a soldier.

 

“William, I need you to go to your apartment and stay with your family. No matter what, don’t come out of doors until you’re sure that it’s safe.”

 

“But, sir – I don’t understand!”

 

‘Just do as I tell you, William. You’ll be fine.”

 

“I’m not leaving you, sir. And there’s the end of it!”

 

“William – do you want them to be alone? Go on with you and make sure you head straight home. I didn’t just sound like a school marm. Tell me I didn’t just sound like a schoolmarm!!!”

 

“You did, sir. Mr. Truepenny, what’s happening?

 

“I still don’t have any idea. But I suspect we should all be prepared to deal with it. Off you are, William!”

 

Reluctantly, Will let himself be shoved out the front door of the shop. Once outside, he glanced back over his shoulder at Mr. Truepenny, who stood watching the sky, unlit pipe in his right hand. Feeling strangely as if he’d stepped out into a dream, Will turned back to the street and headed for his family.

 

 

****

 

Lucinda Larch pushed her mesh- backed, black office chair away from her desk and stood. Stretching her rounded shoulders as she walked, she crossed her office and glanced out the window down at Mabon’s main thoroughfare, a modest cobbled stone street more suited to carts than cars and pedestrians more than either. 

 

With some surprise, she noted the “Going out of Business: Sale! Everything Must Go!” sign in the front window of Mr. Truepenny’s Book Emporium and Art Gallery. The placard hadn’t been there yesterday: of that Lucinda Larch was absolutely certain. Lucinda started when she caught sight of Mr. Truepenny waving a good morning to her from the window of his shop. He certainly didn’t seem to be ill: quite the contrary. Perhaps he had decided to retire and leave Mabon. She nodded briefly and waved in reply before she returned to her desk. 

 

“Ruth? Have there been any calls this morning?”

 

From the front office, Ruth Simmonson called, “If someone’s trying the land line, all I’m getting is a dial tone. My cell’s working. Is yours?”

 

“Yes. Perhaps I’d better - no, I’ll give him twenty more minutes…”

 

“Did you say something, Lucinda?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, no. I was just thinking out loud. Thank you, Ruth.” Her gaze drifted to the quarter repeater clock on her desk. “What-“puzzled, she glanced at her wristwatch, which showed an entirely different time. Both instruments had been in perfect working order the preceding morning. Yet the repeater currently displayed a time four hours and thirty seven minutes earlier than her wristwatch. Annoyed, Lucinda drummed her grey slate desk top until she heard the unmistakable sound of a troop carrier bouncing over the cobblestoned street below her window.

 

“It’s about time,” she muttered to herself. “How long does it take to round up a few trespassers?” The oak door of her office swung open and she started to her feet. “Mr. –“

 

“Lucinda Larch.” Christabel had barely raised her voice above her normal speaking tones. “Come with me.” Behind her, a binding spell holding her in her chair, Ruth Simmonson gaped as the intruder took another step into the room.

 

“What are you?” Anger momentarily replaced surprise and fear. “What did you say?”

 

“Come with me, Lucinda Larch.” Christabel repeated Lucinda’s name, binding her, if Lucinda could have known, with the repetition. “You’ve done enough damage. Come with me.”

 

Lucinda saw only a woman with grey hair and blue eyes wearing black slacks and the most outrageously colored tunic she’d ever seen. Bristling like a started puffer fish, she rounded the back of the desk and marched toward Christabel. “What did you say?” she snapped, her tone brittle with anger.

 

“Come with me, Lucinda.” Christabel repeated the words again and waited again.

 

“I won’t.”

 

Abruptly, the True Met pairs entered the room behind Chrys. John’s furious glare was enough to make Lucinda take a step backward. “You will, Lucinda Larch” he rumbled. “Sammy?”

 

Too late, Lucinda realized her error. Before she could grab for the Grimoire, Sam had snatched it up. Slightly behind him, Dean took Sam’s left hand and guided him backward. 

 

“Give that back to me! It’s mine!”

 

“It belongs to someone, Lucinda Larch, but certainly not to you.” Christabel listened, her head cocked to one side, as she spoke. For a heartbeat, she’d picked out the sound of voices in the hall beyond Ruth Simmonson’s office. Grimly, she turned back to the matter at hand.

 

“So that’s what this is all about! You wanted the Grimoire? Well, take it, then! It won’t do you any good. I’m the only one who can read it!”

 

Christabel didn’t rise to the bait. “Come with us, Lucinda Larch.”

 

“Stop saying my name like that! What…a binding spell? I don’t believe in nonsense like that!” Lucinda truly did not believe that binding – or, for that matter, any – spells actually worked. But when she attempted to raise her right arm, she found it impossible to move. Furious, she struggled against the warding and discovered that she became more tightly entangled. “Go ahead – gloat – damn you! Release me!”

 

“Come with us, Lucinda Larch.” Christabel repeated, this time clearly summoning the other woman. Although she spoke quietly and with certainty, the hedge witch didn’t underestimate her opponent or the danger of the situation. Time – she needed more time. And time was one thing they didn’t have. A muffled thump and a quiet cry came to her ear. “Bobby –“

 

“On it.”

 

Then she heard Lucinda’s voice chanting a spell. She recognized it at once as a basic truth spell. For the most part. Some of the words had been changed, no doubt by Lucinda herself, because what Christabel heard evolved as it went until all she could call it was a summoning spell. One without specifics, no name, no situation. “For the love of the gods, STOP!” she commanded Lucinda. “Now!”

 

Smiling grimly, Lucinda Larch continued, ad libbing as she went until she found words that suited her. By that time, all Christabel dared do was to warn everyone back and away.

 

By the power of three times three, I conjure thee, gods and goddesses of the skies, Let there be no more lies, 

I summon thee by the power of three times three, 

To let secrets be

Unsealed to reveal inner truth

 

Until she’d tangled the words of the spell so much that it had only one place to go. Truth had been summoned, and without a name to focus the spell, it sought for the Truth in the summoner. 

 

And her Truth was Darkness.

 

It rose from Lucinda’s mind where it had lain for decades, dormant, compost and dirt heaped upon the Sight. It didn’t appear in the air, it didn’t possess anything. It simply filled Lucinda.

 

“Stand back away! The bloody idiot has loosed herself! Lucinda Larch, I bind you to you. Lucinda Larch, I bind you to you. Lucinda Larch, I bind you to you. May the Lord and the Lady have mercy.” Reverting to the most basic ward, the only weapon that had a faint chance of working against such a primal manifestation. 

 

Lucinda’s face didn’t change expression, nor did she struggle against the binding. But decades of repression, of cruel punishment of her most basic personality at the slightest manifestation of the Sight, had left her hollow at her very core. And, in that hollow, the Dark had found room to thrive.

 

For a heartbeat, Lucinda Larch hesitated on the brink of acceptance and rejection. Then as the Dark sang its enchantment _‘I can make you powerful enough to stop the Merging. I can make you powerful enough to end the Meeting. Accept me.’_ in her conscious mind for the first time, she reached out and accepted the Dark as her own. And her right hand clenched into a fist as she tested her own limits before she turned on Christabel. 

 

All the hedge witch saw was that same pudgy heavily made up face and the same suspicious blue eyes. But she knew that Lucinda Larch had changed the very warp and weft of her being. And that the woman hadn’t the faintest idea how to control what she had accepted. Mageling and untrained Jeff might be, healer and untrained Jensen might be, but spell’s heart and untrained Lucinda Larch definitely was. Christabel took a step to the side and prepared herself for a fight.

 

“No! Not on our watch!” John grated. “Boys! Jared! Jensen. To each Otherself and Among all of us! Color songs!” He knew he sounded like an idiot, but those were the only words he could come up with.

 

“Intend! Damnit, Intend!” Jeff shouted. 

 

Jared nodded toward Sam and took Jensen into his embrace. “Sing your song, Jensen. To me. And we sing to John and Jeff and Sam and Dean.”

 

“I hope this works, “Nancy whispered to herself. Beside her, Bobby and Tuesday had already begun to weave a snaring ward. Within seconds, she joined in.

 

Faint at first, and then stronger, the color songs wrapped themselves around both their singers and their Otherselves. As the colorsongs became more coherent, they reached in turn for the other pairs until the air in the room pulsed and settled into a triangle of color and sound that surrounded Lucinda Larch and held her still although not without some difficulty.

 

Christabel called into the triangle “Intend! Hold her! John! Take the lead!”

 

John shot a tendril of color toward Lucinda Larch and encircled her without touching her. Around him, the other five men added their Intent to his action, and Lucinda found herself pinned in one place, her Grimoire taken, and the Dark in her too new to use.

 

The spell that Bobby, Tuesday and Nancy wove became more coherent with each word they spoke. They worked quietly, the sound of their warding more discussion than ceremony. Although the air in the room became more and more disturbed, they seemed virtually unaware of it. After a quick glance toward Lucinda Larch, Bobby nodded and he and the Creek sisters cut the threads of the weaving. Immediately, a gleaming, blue steel web settled around Lucinda.

 

“John, stand down! We have her bound. Stand down!” Bobby called above the whine of the wind and the purposeful current of the color songs.

 

John heard and called out quietly to the other men, his voice riding their songs. “Bring yourselves back to your Selves. Slowly. Slowly. Then call your song to each of you. And be careful!” With that, he named his song back to himself and turned to Jeff, both of them calling his colorsong home. Forehead to forehead, they whispered softly to each other, and John kissed Jeff long, gentle. Greengold reached for silver blue and cradled it close. Silence swept in where song had risen.

 

Christabel watched until everyone stood as himself and Lucinda Larch glared from her prison of words.

 

It had been too easy. Not capturing Lucinda Larch, but not being challenged. Too quiet, too easy, too simple by half at least. When she listened intently, she heard nothing. Walking quietly, she made her way to the door of Lucinda’s office and listened to the waiting area outside. 

 

Hatred glittered in the eyes of “the damn fool”. “I have protectors. And you’re in a dead end.” Her hissed words glared with the triumph she felt. “Loosen these wards and I might let you live!”

 

A firm knock on the door was followed by “Is the Winchester inside?”

 

Cautious yet, Christabel pulled the door open a fraction ready to defend at the first hint of danger. Saw only D’rRn. “He is.”

 

And D’rRn’s long knife coated with blood. 

 

“We don’t have much time,” he explained, his voice faint. “There will be more. Do you understand my speech?”

 

“I do, though I thank you for using the informal mode, D’rRn.”

 

“The way to the bridge is blocked. It is unclear how we will return, but we cannot stay in this place. It’s a trap.” His voice faded and his shoulders slumped as he stood there. Jensen spun healing toward him: and the fact that D’rRn didn’t fight the soothing touch showed just how worn he was. 

 

In two strides, John crossed the distance between himself and Jeff and the demon and slung an arm around D’rRn’s shoulders. In a trice, Jeff had him by the waist on his other side. “Don’t argue.” John chided when he felt D’rRn tense. “Lean on me and stop acting like a two year old.”

 

“Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t have left the cars behind?” Dean snapped, fear for Sam reinforcing the anger in his voice. “How do we get back out of here?”

 

“I think that the bridge over that river is the only way. And it’ll be guarded even if we manage to pass the roadblock.” D’rRn hazarded. “If we can reach the bridge-“

 

“Let’s get out the back door, first. Assuming that there is one. C’mon, Lucy.” Bobby barked. “You still fit through this door, wards or no.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere!” she snapped. 

 

Without a word, Bobby grabbed her wrist, although touching her made his stomach roll. Out the door he dragged her. He’d had all he was going to stand from the short, dumpy, middle aged woman. 

 

No one in the outer office had survived except Ruth Simmonson, who stared hollowly at five bodies sprawled between her desk and the outer office door. D’rRn had proved to be both merciless and quick. The fact that she couldn’t move a muscle to attack him had saved the secretary. Shocked kept her rooted to her chair for long minutes after Christabel had released the binding on her. 

 

The stairwell wasn’t wide enough to accommodate three men abreast, so Jeff stepped back and let John help D’rRn down. Once the two men had negotiated the first step, Jeff followed right behind John. 

 

If there had been any people in the building, they appeared to have fled, as not a sound greeted the small group. Everyone kept his or her eyes and senses open, alert for anything that sounded like an ambush. “Baby-boy, stay right here with me.”

 

Jeff touched the back of John’s left hand, stroked a finger down it for a moment. At the bottom of the stairs, they hesitated and then followed Bobby, who had figured that the back door, if there was one, should be directly opposite the front door. No use in making things more complicated than they already were, he thought to himself. 

 

“Bobby – look – “Tuesday murmured. She nodded toward the front door of the building. “It’s fading.” 

 

Tuesday was right. Every feature of the front entry had grown dim. Not that it had disintegrated – there was a difference to what they saw. Or didn’t see. Beyond the place where the doorway had been, they saw green much like the grasses the lined the battered road over which they’d travelled coming in to Mabon.

 

From beyond the back door came the clangor of weapons being drawn and beings being marshaled. Of the two, Bobby figured they had a better chance with whatever waited for them outside than with the fading that had taken everything from within twenty feet outward.

 

“All right, all of you, we have company outside. I don’t want to go out there any more than you do, but we ain’t got a choice. See if we can get to a vehicle, or we’re done for.”

 

John nodded and shifted his grip on D’rRn, only to have the demon say “This one will be all right, the John Winchester. Have a care for the Jeffrey Otherself.”

 

“I’m fine,” Jeff protested. “You’re the one that’s falling over where you stand.”

D’rRn smiled faintly and rolled his eyes, although the expression didn’t suit a demon as well as a human. “Don’t look like that when I talk! I mean business!”

 

“Baby-boy,” John whispered. “It looks like we go out noisy if we can’t get a car to move us.” He touched his forehead to Jeff’s and whispered, “I love you.”

 

Adrenaline raced through Jeff’s system, and he echoed the words, his eyes a little too bright and his face pale except for two red spots on his cheeks. He pulled his pistol from its holder behind his back and nodded in reply to John’s unspoken question.

 

D’rRn stepped back away from the two men, only to have John’s hand close tight around his. “Stay close. You can’t lift that rifle yet. We’ll cover you.”

 

The demon nodded tightly and extricated his hand from John’s grasp. “As the John Winchester says.”

 

 

“Let’s get this freakin’ party started,” Dean said as he reluctantly released himself from Sam’s embrace. “That fading’s movin’ right at us,” he growled a heartbeat later.

 

And went on growling – or rumbling. And then idling. There, right in front of them, when Bobby eased the door open, the cousins rolled out of the Nowwhen and came to a halt in front of the rear door. The Impala led, and Dean could fairly feel the anger rolling off its chassis. He had a feeling that that annoyance wasn’t directly solely at the enemy.

 

“Keep low! Everyone, stay down once you get into the vehicles. Crowd – no one lies on the truck beds. Except, maybe, Lucy. Let’s get the hell out of here and lead those assholes away from Mabon!” Bobby ordered. “Lucy, get your fat ass moving! Ladies, with me!”

 

“You heard the man! Jared, with me. Dean, passenger side! Jensen, here, take this! Nancy next to Dean! Back seat. D’rRn, truck with Dad and Jeff! Go, go, go!” Sam’s voice held an entire symphony of authority. He snatched the Impala’s keys from Dean’s outstretched hand and pushed the back door of the building open. 

 

The fading crept forward relentlessly, still ten feet behind them, but rearranging things without hesitation.

 

Somehow, they managed to squeeze everyone into a vehicle. Including Lucinda, although she did end up on the back bed of Bobby’s truck. Shots began to ping to the ground and to find their range as the cousins shook off their assumed appearances and snarled sleek and black and with enough engine to blow a NASCAR Sprint Cup vehicle off the track. And, just like that, they were gone out of Mabon with two troop trucks screaming after them. Nancy glanced back one time and saw that Mabon had already begun to change, to grow dim as it sank back into its own Now when from the Half when that Lucinda’s badly spelled magic had pulled it. Safe. She hoped.

 

“We have to get across the bridge before it freakin’ disappears!” Bobby yelled to John over his phone.

 

Christabel – can you open the wards at Tamson if I – if I hold the bridge steady here?” Jeff called out.

 

“Baby boy, it’s a long, long shot. Christabel, can you do it?”

 

“Yes.” Christabel’s voice came quiet, purposeful. “If you can intend toward me. But ask the cousins to take us that way, or they may refuse to go. They want you safe, not dis-integrated.”

 

“It’s the only fucking way!” Dean barked as a bullet gouged along the Impala’s hood. 

 

“We’re going. Cousins, please help us now. We have to seal this when.” Jeff spoke more to himself than the vehicles, but they seemed to sense his presence.

 

The Impala growled and flicked its lights. Then slowed slightly, allowing Christabel to begin the opening call and the others to settle into a link. 

 

So focused was everyone on the task at hand that they ignored Lucinda Larch. Furious and intent only on escaping, she tested the bonds laid on her and discovered a weakness one softer spot where the binding gave to allow her to breathe. Bobby’s truck careened more closely to the Impala and John’s vehicle, sending Lucinda rolling across the truck bed, in plain sight of her own group of followers. Instantly, they held their fire rather than risk harm to her.

 

Lucinda’s nose came up bloody after the next bump and slide threw her back across the bed. Ignoring the pain hitting the other bed wall caused, she narrowed her anger to the one point that gave under her attack. 

 

Inside John’s truck, Jeff sank into silence, consciously attempting to do what he had done instinctively once before. They had stopped at the near side of the bridge that led toward the city and everyone but Christabel and D’rRn had disembarked in order to enter the city silently. Jeff had had a chance to examine the structure and, as they screeched toward it, he saw it again in his mind’s eye. 

 

In a rebuilt Now, solid and safe to cross over. And beyond it, its rear wards beginning to open, Tamson House. Where they were going, where there was safety. Where he could claim his lover and make him his own again. 

 

The bridge crossed a quiet, small stream and was wide enough for the Impala to lead the trucks that followed two abreast behind him. No cobblestones, no signs of wear. Engines pouring out power, the three vehicles launched themselves across the modern, six lane- bridge and reached the other side still barreling at over 100 miles an hour. The minute John’s truck’s rear wheels touched ground on the Now when side of the bridge, it decelerated, dumping energy as it went.

 

Once they had cleared the cobblestoned, narrow bridge, its center support failing and fading into whichever When it had found, Jeff opened his eyes and whispered, “Are we over?”

 

“Oh gods, baby boy – you did it,” John breathed. A glance in the rear view mirror showed him the bridge fading taking the troop trucks with it. And, where a rutted cobblestone road had looped slowly toward Mabon, a wide, dirt thoroughfare slowly materialized. Grass, untrammeled by the feet of orc-people, glowed spring bright. Trees dotted the landscape and copsed on the horizon, as if nothing had happened to disturb them.

 

Jeff nodded and curled up against John’s shoulder. “Can we go home now?” He wanted to stay awake, but his eyes refused. Stunned, D’rRn stared at the Jeffrey Otherself and then glanced at the John Winchester who, for a few seconds, let the truck do the maneuvering. The Hunter smiled proudly down at the Jeffrey and murmured, “Mageling.” D’rRn thought, “The one John doesn’t know the half of it,” before his own smile broke through. He realized that he’d been staring too long at the John Winchester and turned his head to stare out the window. 

 

The wards around Tamson House literally pulled the vehicles through themselves, absorbing the energy of their racing engines until they rolled to a smooth stop, idling five feet from the building.


	33. Chapter 32

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay!  


* * *

Chapter 32

 

Right before they backed slowly away from Tamson, not stopping until their rear bumpers stood within two feet of the wards. Nancy spotted Bobby getting out of his truck and followed suit. Beside her, Jared and Jensen had already lost track of everything but losing clothes so they could feel each other’s bodies touching. “Cousin, keep them safe,” she said clearly. When the door thunked closed, the locks engaged.

 

“Dean?” Sam glanced over at his brother. “I’m not getting a good feeling here.” His face scrunched when he heard Jensen’s voice wavering around “Nownownow – “ Eyes slitting shut, he slid across the seat and kissed Dean’s neck, hand reaching for the heat of Dean’s groin, squeezing his erection through the material.

 

“Me neither,” Dean grunted. He flipped his cell phone open and called John. “Dad?”

 

“Dunno. Stay where you are and keep an eye on the wards. If the cousin’ll let us,” John’s voice grated across those words, “we’re going to move up a little and take a look around from inside the cab. Oh hell, Bobby’s hammering on my window. Stay on the line.” Dean tried not to moan when Sam mouthed his dick through his jeans, but a whimper managed to slip between his lips. On the seat behind him, Jensen cried out as Jared slicked only with spit, claimed him. “Please don’t stop…don’tstopnodon’tthere – _there!_ Jayloveyou-“

 

Face white, eyes glinting in rage, Bobby spat out, “John, our _passenger_ r is fuckin’ _gone_! Damnit!” 

 

For an idiotic moment, all Dean could think other than what he wanted to do with Sam, was that Bobby had said the word ‘fuck’ out loud. Emphatically. Then reality stepped in. “What?” he called into his phone.

 

“Dean, let me talk. What?” John snarled the word and sent Jeff shivering back away from him. “Hold on guys. Baby-boy?” Flushed with embarrassment, Jeff slid back across the seat and huddled next to his Otherself. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“ ‘m all right. John, what’s going on? I thought here is safe.”

 

“Damned if I know. Bobby do you have any idea –“

 

“Not a clue. I heard her bouncing around in the truck bed. Coulda sworn that she was there once we got across the bridge. But I just turned around to make sure she was breathin’ and she’s fuckin’ gone!”

 

“Dean? You and Sam – Dean?”

 

“Huh – yessir – uh”

 

“Oh hell! Stay where you are!” John’s temper boiled right at the surface, but he needed to be inside Jeff as much as Dean and Sam and no doubt Jared and Jensen wanted each other. And, he knew suddenly, he needed Jeff inside him. The thought reduced his legs to jelly. Now-

 

No. Not now. He was fucking senior and half of the First Met and having Jeff’s cock buried inside him had to wait. He shot a glance at Jeff and saw him press the heel of his palm to the base of his erection. “Baby boy?”

 

“We will-“Jeff hissed as he pulled back from the lure of mating with his Otherself. “That’s not all that has the cousins up in arms, though.” He tilted his head to one side and listened. “It’s something else.” A frown creased his brow and he held his breath as he strained to hear. Shook his head a moment later. “I can’t - I’m sorry, John.”

 

John murmured, “Baby, you haven’t done one damn thing to be sorry for. Stay close, okay?”

 

A sharp, clear _crack_ was the only warning they had. One of the massive trees just outside the inner wards split to its roots and staggered to the ground, a vast, slow motion fall that shunted it onto one side and crushed the wards under its bole. Before the crown of the tree had stopped its wild shaking, something, or someone crashed wobbled forward and dropped to the ground face down. “Out of the Un – “D’rRn grunted. “The John will remain here.”

 

Jeff gaped as the wards struggled to solidify themselves. Silver and gold, copper bits and pieces straggled up and milled about until first one and then two and then forty connections were reestablished. He realized that anyone caught in the temporary barrier was as good as dead: the wards had been too damaged to be sophisticated. 

 

“The John will do as he pleases!” John snapped startling Jeff back to the moment. “There’s a second one- Jeff, stay here.” 

 

“No. John, I go with you.”

 

A third figure and, John realized in time to block the pieces from Jeff’s view, part of a fourth fell through, the last caught in between one sigil and the next as the wards realigned. D’rRn tested the truck door and scrambled out of the cab the minute it opened. “John! The last ones were one of _hers_! What the – Nooooo!” he shouted as he raced toward the first figure where it sprawled on the ground. 

 

John took off at a run, heading toward the orc-thing. Dazed and slow moving, the creature had nonetheless found its feet and, rifle at the ready, started toward the second arrival, who lay motionless and helpless on the dirt. Before it could squeeze off a shot, John blew its head apart. In the abrupt silence that followed, he heard “Te – Te –“D’rRn’s voice was broken and pleading, and all John could feel was sickening dread as he neared the being he’d rescued. Another daemon-D’s. He remembered the two daemons, Tehan and D’s sitting together and sharing caresses as well as food. “Oh no-“he whispered to himself. Then, more loudly, “D’s? Do you hear the one?”

 

A wavering groan greeted his words and he dropped to one knee beside D’s’ prone figure. “D’s?” he asked quietly. “This one is John Winchester.” 

 

“-hear the – one. Te- _Te_?”

 

“Here.” Tehan hadn’t made it to D’s side on his own steam. Either broken or sprained, his left ankle had swelled enough to fill his boot. His right side had been severely lacerated and a four inch gash dribbled blood down his forehead. “D’s, this one is all right! See to D’s.”

 

“-not hurt – more winded.” 

 

“-I don’t believe you.” Shakily Tehan tugged free of D’rRn and collapsed to the ground next to D’s. To prove his point, D’s rolled over and peered up at Tehan. “The one is a mess. To put it bluntly,” he grunted.

 

“Better looking than you – “Tehan countered. Just before he leaned down and kissed D’s, scenting him and reassuring himself that his consort had, in fact, been less hurt than he’d thought. One of Tehan’s left ribs complained sharply at the sudden movement, and he sucked in a breath before he could stop himself. “Rib – nothing serious.”

 

“Punctured lung – still nothing serious?”

 

“D’s, you worry too much.” 

 

“We need to get all of us inside. We aren’t safe here,” John muttered to D’rRn. “Take Tehan?”

 

“This isn’t going to be pretty.” D’rRn muttered back. 

 

“Don’t I know it.” John sighed.

 

D’rRn scooped his lanky cousin up so quickly that Te had no time to escape. “D’rRn, put this one down! See to D’s! Let me go!” Tehan snapped. “I’m–ugh!” D’rRn pushed on Tehan’s chest, just a little, and smiled grimly. 

 

“The one will be quiet. Now.” John watched as Tehan immediately settled in D’rRn’s grip; it appeared that being the John Winchester had its advantages. Far more gently, he asked, “Will the one Tehan allow this one to help D’s?”

 

“I am in the one John Winchester’s debt. The one D’s is still healing from a broken collar bone.”

 

“Te – it’s been healed for –“

 

“Enough,” D’rRn snapped. “The two of you will listen to the John Winchester.” Tehan opened his mouth and shut it again when D’rRn glared at him. 

 

D’s smirked a little at Tehan’s discomfort let John to help him to his feet. His right knee gave way immediately. And his right shoulder screamed in protest when he attempted to hook his arm around the John Winchester’s shoulder to support himself. “Dislocated,” he grunted in explanation. 

 

Hobbling and complaining to himself, D’s allowed John and Jeff to help him across the grass toward the nearest door to Tamson House. 

 

“Do you think Jensen can do something to help?” Jeff asked John as they followed D’rRn toward Tamson House. 

 

“I think we need someone with more experience than Jensen has. Daemon body structure is different than human. I’m thinking more in terms of Wednesday Creek, if we can convince her to leave the rez and travel the Otherwhen to get here.”

 

“There’s a Wednesday Creek? And I’m thinking a Thursday as well?”

 

“Sixteen sisters – the names had to come from somewhere,” John replied, smiling a bit. “Hey, Cerin. Thanks.” 

 

“No problem, John.” Cerin Kellady replied. “Meran has a room for the two of them. Just follow D’rRn.”

 

“Cerin, you look like I feel. What’s been going on here?” John eyed the long slash that had laid Cerin’s right cheek open and had required ten stitches to close.

 

Cerin shook his head and shrugged. “Trespassers. They’re gone.” And the grey of his eyes turned cold and stern. “Didn’t like the welcoming committee. Where’s Bobby? Meran needs to speak with him.”

 

“Outside swearing a blue streak. Lucinda Larch didn’t come through the wards with us.”

 

“What?” Stunned, Cerin gaped at John. “What do you mean didn’t come through the wards?”

 

“Just what I said. She was in the bed of Bobby’s truck when we crossed the bridge. When we got through the wards, she wasn’t there. Could Christabel’s warding have swept her off?”

 

“No.” Christabel stumped in behind John and Jeff and snapped the word. “I set the warding to allow her through, in case we actually got her out of Mabon in one piece. She had to have been out of the truck bed by the time we hit the wards. Cerin, where’s Meran?”

 

“I’m here, Chrys.” Meran hadn’t come through the incident with the “trespassers” unscathed, although the bruising and abrasions seemed minor and she ignored them. “What could have happened? And how do we care for two daemons?”

 

“First things first. Nancy and Tuesday are talking with Wednesday. She has enough experience healing that she’ll be our best bet, especially for that damaged ankle of Tehan’s and D’s dislocated shoulder. John, I know what you’re thinking already, but don’t try it. Daemon joints are different than ours. We can’t just tug that shoulder back into place.”

 

“And if Wednesday wants to drive instead of walk the Otherwhen?”

 

“She’s coming through the Otherwhen,” Nancy announced from the doorway. “Tuesday’s going to meet her.”

 

John’s eyebrows both arched and he grinned lopsidedly. “All right – now I know two universes are merging. Wednesday’s walking the Otherwhen. Alone.” 

 

“Nancy, did the boys head out to check the wards or something?”

 

Nancy’s smile would have made a statue laugh. “They – er- haven’t made it out of the Impala yet.”

 

“Nancy – didn’t you just -?”

 

“When Bobby made a break from the truck, I did the same from the Impala. Jared and Jensen were already welcoming each other back from Mabon. I felt like a cross between a fifth wheel and a voyeur. I asked the cousin to keep them safe. Apparently, it took me literally.” 

 

John strode to the front door and looked toward the Impala. The windows were pitch black and the car rocked to its own beat. “Kids,” he muttered to himself.

 

“Kids, nothing. Come here,” Jeff ordered. “Now.” When John didn’t turn quickly enough, Jeff, laughing, grabbed his left wrist and hauled him around. “Now.” 

 

John’s breath rushed out of his lungs, leaving him lightheaded. Something – some memory – what? The teasing smile vanished from Jeff’s face. Immediately, he released John’s wrist and slid one arm around his waist. “John? John are you all right? I was just fooling around. I want you in me, Otherself. I want you in me. Now. Please?” His whispered words served their purpose, distracting John and providing him a chance to recover. A grin replaced the vacant look on John’s face and laughed a little when Jeff began to unbutton his shirt, tongue clenched between his teeth in concentration.

 

“Now? Here?”

 

“Bed – There.” Jeff’s laugh rang out when John swept him into a fireman’s carry and toted him off to the aforementioned horizontal surface.

 

D’rRn, waiting for Wednesday Creek to finish cleaning out the lacerations on Tehan’s side, had seen the encounter. He smiled as the two men disappeared into their bedroom, but his eyes remained dark, and, after a few seconds, the smile softened and his expression changed to thoughtful.

 

 

*****

 

Sam and Dean lay as comfortably as they could in the front seat of the Impala, jammed between the doors and squashed under the steering wheel. Between them, their come had begun to harden and stick, but they didn’t care. Dean’s cock still was deep inside Sam’s ass and Sam’s tightly clenched muscles strove to keep it there. Sam’s come leaked out of Dean and left a trail down the inside of his leg but none of that mattered. Dean leaned in for a kiss and Sam caught his tongue, twined around it with his own and slid his hands down Dean’s back, memorizing again what he had traced a thousand times before, the feel of his lover’s body on and in him. “Sammy-“

 

“Dean?”

 

“Did you hear somethin’?”

 

“Besides Jared snoring? No.”

 

“I’m not snoring,” Jared interrupted. “Jensen is.” 

 

“’M not,” Jensen mumbled. “Jus’resting my eyes.”

 

“Uh huh,” Jared yawned. 

 

“Am!”

 

“Okay – what you said. Baby?”

 

Jensen muttered something unintelligible under his breath and pulled Jared back down on top of him. “Wan’ you now.”

 

“You have me, good lookin’.” Jared murmured. 

 

Dean smiled down at Sam, remembering how many times they’d said that to each other. Sam reached up and stroked the side of Dean’s face, blushed bright red when Dean kissed the palm of his hand and whispered, “I love you.” Sam’s lips moved silently. _I love you, too._

 

Aloud, Sam grumbled, “I’m never gonna get out of this seat – my left leg went to sleep. I think it fell off. Dean? D’you not hear what I don’t hear?”

 

“Huh? Holy crap – the car’s not running.” As the car’s windows slowly cleared, Dean snapped into hunt mode so fast he almost made noise. “What time is it? It’s dark out! When did that freakin’ happen? Guys! Get yourselves back into clothes. It’s after dark. We need to get inside.”

 

“Does that involve moving?” Jensen mumbled.

 

“Fraid so.”

 

“I know how you feel, man. But something tells me we don’t want to be out here all night.”

 

“What’s telling you? The way you stick to Sam?”

 

“Verry funny. No smartass, the way we are now two feet from the front door.”

 

“Crap! I need to get dressed!” Jared struggled into his jeans and shirt, wrinkling his nose at the smelly spectacle he made. Only the fact that Jensen looked and smelled equally horrendous comforted him.

 

Dean thought for a second that the Impala chuckled but decided to call the noise dieseling instead. “Uh, thanks, cousin.” The dieseling intensified and then stopped.

 

The passenger side doors opened when Dean and Jensen grabbed the handles, and all four men piled out of the car, strode up the steps and knocked. Bobby let them in and peered out into the night, arching one eyebrow and pointing up down the hall to their right. “Third and fourth doors. Get cleaned up. We’re meeting in the library.”

 

“Bobby?”

“Hurry up, or I’ll throw out the food I saved for you,” he rumbled. Not that he looked as though he meant what he said. 

 

Dean couldn’t escape the feeling that all four of them had missed something that might possibly have been more important than lovemaking. As Sam and he washed each other, lingering and letting the moment stretch out, worry faded from their minds again. Until John barked, “You two! Stop runnin’ up the hot water bill! Hurry up and get out here!”

 

“Yessir!” Dean called back swallowing down a yawn before he did so. “C’mon, baby. Damn! It’s cold out here!”

 

“Yeah – the dark green t-shirt. I love them perky nipples when you get shivery. They just pop right up and – oh man…” Sam watched Dean’s expression morph to aghast and laughed out loud.

 

“Perky whats?” Dean looked down at the offending body parts and covered them with his crossed arms. “I don’t have-“

 

“Keep thinking that. But you do. And they make you hotter’n you already are.” Sam laughed and pulled Dean’s arms away from his chest, stroked his fingers lightly across the material of Dean’s t-shirt and watched as Dean’s nipples sprang to life again. Dean cuffed his brother over the back of his head and stamped off toward the library, leaving Sam standing alone.

 

Alone. Walking away from him. Angry. _No! Come back!_

 

Sensing the abrupt change in Sam’s mood, Dean half turned and looked over his shoulder. “Sammy, c’mere!” Sam’s face had gone white under the tan, and he stood rooted to the floor. Dean knew that look. He’d seen it before. Times when Sam had panicked at the thought of his brother leaving him alone, times when John had come back late from a hunt. The one disastrous time when he and Sam had met up with their mother for the weekend. 

 

Sam’s Forlorn Puppy Eyes alone reduced Dean to blithering idiocy. Those plus his patented Trembling Lower Lip were an equation that resulted in Dean apologizing for things he hadn’t done yet. Throw in a Stray Tear Sliding Down Both Cheeks and Dean started looking for hot coals to walk over if Sam asked. But there was a difference between using expressions to stop an argument or to wangle something from Dean. Sam wasn’t acting. Or flirting. 

 

Oh, shit.

 

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders and hugged as hard as he could, murmuring in Sam’s ear all the while. “I’m here. C’mon baby brother. Let’s go and see what the bad news is. Then, and I’m doing this only because you’re such a girl and I’m the most awesome brother on Earth, you can play with my damn perky nipples all night.” Dean’s voice was light, but behind his eyes, worry paced. 

 

“Promise?” Sam took a breath and attempted to catch the mood Dean had set up.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I promise-I mean, yeah. I promise.”

 

Sam nodded and leaned against his lover. He’d been terrified, and he still needed Dean close. Puzzled and concerned, Dean kept his left arm around Sam and led him to the library. 

 

Jensen and Jared followed them two minutes later, and joined Sam and Dean on the floor around the low coffee table, where the remains of supper had been laid out for them. “Dad, where’s D’rRn?”

 

“In keeping an eye on Tehan and D’s.” John had been ready to snap out a lecture about paying attention to things when he realized that none of the men had a clue about what he meant. “Tehan and D’s. They crashed through the wards from the Otherwhen about ten minutes after we came through from Mabon?” No sign of understanding. “Followed by two of those things Lucinda Larch dreamed up?” Nothing. “Didn’t you guys hear anything?”

 

“No, sir,” Jared finally managed. He blushed to the roots of his hair, then swallowed and looked up. John sat watching him, expression serious, but not angry. “We were – the Impala was – like dragons. Oh, hell!”

 

John tilted his head to one side. “The Impala was thrumming like the dragons. Is that what you’re mangling - er, trying to say?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“I see. Dean? Sam?”

 

“Just like them, whatever they are,” Dean agreed quickly. 

 

“Dragons,” Jared tried to explain. “Ramoth and Mnementh. Jensen?”

 

“Ann McCaffrey.” Jensen clarified. “Dragonriders.”

 

“Robinton – right? Same place?” Dean asked. Stunned, Sam stared at him and nodded. “Hey! You like fantasy junk – so I figured I’d try it.”

 

“Anyway,” John continued. “The Impala thrummed and kept you four oblivious?”

 

“Yessir – well, not to everything,” Jared managed. Jensen grinned into his lover’s eyes and leaned forward a couple of inches. ‘Baby – we’re meeting. Making out later, right? Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it?”

 

“You might say that.” 

 

“Bobby?”

 

“Lucinda Larch is in the wind. And we don’t have a clue where.”

 

“And something’s happening in the West. For Tehan and D’s to have traveled the Otherwhen, it has to be serious. They’re in no condition to talk right now.”

 

“Actually, Tehan wishes to speak to the John Winchester,” D’rRn interjected. His arrival in the library had been so quiet it had gone unnoticed. “And the Jeffrey Dean who is the John Winchester’s Otherself.” The formality with which the daemon spoke provided all the warning John needed. With Jeff at his side, he followed D’rRn toward the sickroom.

 

Tehan lay beside D’s, who had finally gone to sleep after Wednesday Creek had both assured him that Te had suffered no massive damage and seen to his own injuries. D’s had curled slightly toward Tehan as he had drifted off, and Te raised a hand in warning. _Quiet_. John nodded understanding and took a step closer.

 

“The John Winchester is well?” Tehan asked sleepily. He fought to remain awake and reminded himself that tea might be something else again, especially if a healer offered it. 

 

“The John Winchester is well. And the one?”

 

“I am well enough. Will the Jeffrey Otherself sit?”

 

Jeff nodded and took the chair that D’rRn had vacated when he’d gone to the library to fetch them. “The one Lucinda Larch has escaped?”

 

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. She isn’t where we last had her. The wards were set to allow her through. But she was not in the truck bed when Bobby turned to look at her. I don’t know if she’s escaped or – something worse.”

 

“She must be found. She has started great mischief and malice and now it’s alive in its own right. We need information from that one.” 

 

John’s expression sobered. “The one Tehan should be sleeping. We can speak tomorrow of what brought the one and his consort through the Un.”

 

“No. Now, while D’s sleeps. This one would save him from more pain.”

 

John had known that something was wrong. But the look in Tehan’s eyes when he glanced at his lover came near to breaking the Hunter’s heart. “His wife and, this one’s dear friend, has been killed. His children are safe. And the mothers of all of us are safe, far from harm. But,” Tehan’s eyes closed as he searched for the right words. “But there was a raid. Out of nowhere. Creatures – not human, not daemon. Creatures. Howling. Just weapons and battle fury. By the time we understood the danger, they had taken two towns and reduced them to stone and ash. 

 

“This one has asked for help from the hunting community. But I do not know who they are, do not know how to contact them directly. The one who is darkest in the one John’s memory is the only contact this one has. And she has refused. ”

 

John thought he knew what was coming next. “Teh-“

 

“The John Winchester will hear my words out?” Tehan asked softly. “This one wonders if the John Winchester knows of other hunters in the area where this one’s clan lives. If the John Winchester does, perhaps he could provide an introduction.”

 

John’s world stopped tilting sideways and he took a deep breath. “This one will speak to the Bobby Singer, who will have the best answer.”

 

Tehan nodded and looked directly at Jeff. “This one would speak to the Otherself of the John Winchester.”

 

Jeff glanced up at John and rose to his feet, startled by the pallor of John’s skin. Any mention of Mary Campbell evoked that reaction, Jeff realized. “John?”

 

“I’m all right. Tehan, this one thanks you.”

 

“There is no need.” He glanced at D’s, who slept silently, grief as much as physical pain weighing heavily on him. “No need.”

 

Jeff remained in the room after everyone else had departed. Speaking slowly, using Jeff’s language, Tehan explained.

 

“It is – important that the Jeffrey - know that this one will never do Any Thing to cause the John Winchester pain or grief. I do not know what has-I do not know the reason for the debt the clan owes the John Winchester. And I do not believe that the John Winchester knows. But Jeffrey – _you_ have my oath and the oath not only of my clan, but also of all who are what you name daemon that we will do all things possible to keep the John Winchester away from that one who is dark in his eyes. I swear to you that the John Winchester is safe from that nameless one.”

 

“I thank the one Tehan for his oath. And for the safety of the one John Winchester, who is my heart and my life.” Jeff nodded solemnly and accepted the handclasp Tehan gave. “D’s, I know that the one is awake. I grieve with you for your loss.”

 

“This one thanks the one for his words,” D’s managed. Tehan looked up and behind Jeff.

 

“We will sleep now. D’rRn, this one knows that you’re there,” Tehan called quietly. “Come and take the one Jeffrey to the John Winchester.”

 

“As the one wishes.” D’rRn knelt beside Tehan’s bed and spoke softly to him, far too swiftly for Jeff to understand. Then, tender and gentle, the daemon pressed his lips to Tehan’s and then, even more gently, to D’s. Jeff understood when D’rRn whispered, “Sleep now. This one is near. There is safety.”

 

Then, formally, he offered his near arm to Jeff and waited until he accepted it. Silently, they left the sick room without a look back.

 

Halfway to the library, Jeff turned and looked into the fathomless black eyes of the daemon. “The one will return with them.”

 

“That is not a matter for tonight.”

 

“The one will return with them.” Jeff repeated, broken voiced and sad. After the shortest of hesitations, D’rRn, moving slowly, clasped the fingers of Jeff’s right hand between his hands. Silently, he placed Jeff’s palm against his chest, over his hearts. Capturing D’rRn’s right hand in turn, Jeff pressed the palm over his own heart. He knew without question that what they were speaking was heart truth and inviolable.

 

“He needs you here, D’rRn.”

 

“He needs to be protected from that one who is dark in his memory. And I can do that best where that one walks.”

 

“Do you know what – “

 

“No. But what the one has done must be terrible. In all of this one’s learning, never have the daemon clans sworn as one to protect any being.” 

 

“Much less a human.” Jeff whispered.

“Indeed.”

 

“He can’t learn about any of this.”

 

“No.”

 

“If he did, he would fight to learn the reason.”

 

D’rRn nodded soberly. “I know.”

 

“He’d walk straight into the danger you want to keep him away from.”

 

“That is my greatest fear.”

 

“You love him.” The words caught in Jeff’s throat and he battled to stay calm. Very quietly, D’rRn answered.

 

“I am sworn to protect him.”

 

“Then stay with us. Please.”

 

D’rRn twitched when Jeff used a word of power. And his hearts stuttered in their rhythm when he saw the pain those five words caused the Jeffrey. But he knew more of the human speech than most and understood that, if he cause was right, it was possible to refuse. “I cannot. I am needed there.”

 

“We haven’t found Lucinda Larch – we need you here.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Will the one listen while this one asks a favor?”

 

“I will.”

 

“Help us until we find her. I don’t know why, D’rRn, but something is happening, something that’s never been before. I can feel it. The ground is shouting it.”

 

The way D’rRn stared first at the floor of the house and then up and away, listening and hearing with every part of him, Jeff knew that he felt the same thing. “Tehan cannot leave tomorrow.” Jeff realized that D’rRn had answered without answering, at least for the next few hours. “The one is tired and the John Winchester searches for you. Go now.” Carefully, he lifted his hand away from Jeff’s chest and then clasped Jeff’s hand between both of his. “I will think.” Gentle, he released Jeff and stepped back.

 

Jeff inclined his head in a slight bow and watched as D’rRn returned to his watch in the hall next to the sickroom. D’rRn’s revelations about the oath that protected the John Winchester repeated and repeated in his mind, and all he knew was that he needed John. That John was his life – he saw his Otherself at the end of the hall and started toward him. John looked up and his smile half blinded Jeff, the love in it bright as daylight. 

 

Between one step and the next, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Winchester was born. 

 

“There you are, baby-boy! We –“Jeff’s lips on his stopped John in mid-word. _No one. No thing will hurt you or take you from me. I swear it. On my life, I swear it._

 

Startled, John pulled back a bit and then responded like to like. Arms around each other, they stroked the length of each other’s backs as they kissed. His strength equal to John’s, Jeff carded his fingers through the Hunter’s hair and cradled the back of his head, slid his free hand down the front of John’s shirt and sought the skin beneath fabric. Broke his kiss long enough to nuzzle John’s neck, forcing John’s chin up to expose as much skin as he could to the insistent attention of his tongue and lips. Then kissed his way back to John’s mouth, wordless, drawing from the earth beneath him as John drew from the world around him. 

 

_Mine. Mine. My life. My love. My soul. My beloved._

 

Words that he didn’t need to say aloud. 

 

Words that John heard without hearing.

 

The color songs felt the change and rose, for the first time equal and intertwined, behind them. Singing, singing and crying in delight their songs together, they soared effortlessly toward the heavens, Tamson’s roof only an illusion to them. Until the blazing, intricate spiraling of gold and silver and blue green lit the sky for miles. 

 

True Met. 

 

Gradually, Jeff felt the world come back into focus, felt John shaking in his arms, heard the songs far and above shouting celebration in light. He didn’t know if he could speak. And, indeed, his voice came out raspy and soft. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.” John blushed like a school boy. 

 

“Jeffrey Dean Morgan here.” _I love you._

 

“John Winchester here.” _I love you._

 

“I - wonder if we woke the neighbors.”

 

“We woke up Saskatchewan.” John spoke with a straight face, somehow. But his chuckle escaped before he could stifle it.

 

“The East side or the West Side?”

 

“Both. Erm – The meeting?”

 

“Hmm? Ohhh, the meeting. Sure…library, right?”

 

“Yeah. Library.” 

 

Bobby picked himself up off the floor where the passing of the colorsongs had tossed him. Dazed, he shook his head and squinted, trying to focus. When he could finally see one John and one Jeff, he called out, “No more meeting tonight. You two get into a room! Take those color songs with you! You four – the same. I’ve got first watch.”

 

Around him, the others began to stir, the two other True Met pairs as flummoxed as Bobby, Christabel and the Creek sisters had been. Jared and Sam hauled the remains of their late supper to the nearest kitchen and cleaned up while Dean and Jensen helped clear up the library.

 

“Jeff?”

 

“Hmm?” Jeff realized that John resting against his chest felt right. Being strong and confident with John was a fine thing, but even as he thought that, Jeff sensed himself longing to be the one held. And he didn’t know how to say it without sounding like a child. “John?”

 

“What’s the matter, baby-boy? Hey now –“John sat up and Jeff sank gratefully against the hunter’s solid strength. From long habit, John tickled the palm of Jeff’s left hand with one thumb and felt the younger man wrap his fingers securely around it. “I love that you’re well and strong, baby-boy. But you never have to be that when you don’t feel like you are. Just be you. You have to know that I love holding you and making you safe. Right?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“No more soul searching talk for now, okay?”

 

Jeff nodded against John’s chest drifted toward sleep. Within a few minutes, John followed him into dreams, delighted to see his Otherself there waiting for him. 

 

****

 

 

“Bobby, I would have taken the watch tonight myself,” Christabel murmured after everyone had retired to their bedrooms. “It’s my charge, and I know better than you when it’s in danger.”

 

“You take the second watch. I need to think. Something snatched her out of that truck bed. I can guarantee it. I’m missing something. And I need quiet to think it over.”


	34. Chapter 33  - Part 1

  
Author's notes: Eureka! I have realized the stumbling block I created for myself (Chapter 33 is the last chapter) and have hewn it with my little hatchet. I have friends who loathe part As-Zs and I'm not tremendously fond of them. So I'm using Part 1. Part 2 is well underway. I hate self created stumbling blocks. Cosmic jokes waiting to happen. Darn things!  


* * *

Chapter 33 Part 1

John recognized the footsteps as Bobby’s: they’d hunted together for years, and knew each other to the soles of their boots. However, he didn’t climb out of bed to investigate what the other hunter might be doing. Instead, he shifted his lower body away from his sleeping lover, easing the tip of his cock clear of Jeff’s entrance. Jeff’s sleep-soft whimper of protest brought a smile to the elder Winchester’s face just before he yawned and pulled Jeff back tight against him. “I’m too old for this, baby boy,” he mumbled, eyes falling shut.

 

“Not – y’prfct “came the mumbled reply. Jeff turned over and nuzzled in against John’s neck. “P’fct.” 

 

Bobby padded quietly down the front hall, a shadow in the shadowy near darkness. Picking the door closest to their vehicles, he zipped up his jacket and triple checked his shotgun. A week earlier, he might have assumed that Tamson was safe: however, too much had happened over the previous few days. Shotgun at the ready, he opened the door a crack and peered out into the early morning light.

 

All three cars sat where they’d been the night before. They hadn’t relocated, which encouraged him. To himself, he muttered, “Someday I’m going to wonder why that sounds normal.”In the meantime, however, he cast a squint eyed glance around the entire yard straight out to the inner wards. Other than a rambling breeze that poked and prodded bushes and grasses, nothing moved with six feet of him. Beyond, hidden under the cover of Kellygnow Wood, well outside the safe range, he heard the sounds of animals skittering through the previous autumn’s dried leaves and the calls of fifteen different birds at least.

 

Tension tightened its grip on his shoulders and he shifted his shotgun into a more comfortable ready position. Still going carefully, he descended the three steps that led to a path through the grass. In seven long, smooth strides, he reached his truck and roughly patted the hood. Feeling like seven kinds of a fool, he muttered, “I have to check your bed. Shoulda stopped and done it last night – Oh hell.” The last words came after he’d dropped the tail gate and squatted to look straight across the bed. There it was, the neon yellow to go with the smell he’d picked up the afternoon before. “Hang on. I got oil and a rag in the tool box. Damn, I hope you ain’t hurt.” 

 

An inch wide bubble of blistered paint broke when he scrubbed away the sulfur before it could do any more harm. But the truck remained silent and motionless under his hand. “You gonna be all right?” It shuddered a little. “I hope that means yes.” Thoughtfully, he slid off the tail gate and swung it shut.

 

And then the Impala decided to practice Morse code. At gods knew what hour in the morning. Its lights flicked sharply, three fast, three slow, three fast. “Now what?” Three fast, three slow, three fast. S.O.S. The car didn’t move, but repeated the light flashes one more time. 

 

Bobby took a closer look, not only at the wards in front of and to the side of him, but also toward the house. Nothing at eye level. Nothing below eye level. So he looked up.

 

And froze.

 

Tamson Forest filled the immediate horizon. Great, soaring boles of trees that had lived for ages there were. Huge bur oaks and white oaks, massive red oaks, maples, and lordly firs from the great white pines to cedars and balsams, trees that shouldn’t have shared a forest but that stood root to root in Tamson Forest, each tree in its own Now. Chestnuts and great redwoods, Elms that had long since disappeared from the daily world, the great wardens of the earth massed solidly in what had been the atrium of Tamson House.

 

The sun cast golden light through openings between the trees, and birds called from branches high above and far beyond him. For a moment, recalling the few times he’d walked parts of the great wood, Bobby let himself be swept away into remembrance. The mood of the trees, usually fairly easy to read, was closed to him. Then the Impala blinked SOS again, twice, breaking into his thoughts. 

 

“All right! I’m moving! Hold on to your plug wires!” he groused at the muscle car. 

 

John jumped from asleep to alert so fast he went lightheaded when Bobby hammered on the door at the same time he shouted, “John! Jeff – get your asses up and get to the library. Meeting – 20 minutes! Get up!” He repeated his dulcet-toned alarm clock impression at each bedroom door on the hall, pausing only when D’rRn barred him from entering D’s and Tehan’s room. The daemon’s eyes had begun to glow hazel, a clear warning.

 

“D’rRn, I ain’t gonna hurt them. Meeting – library. You can tell ‘em what we talk about. I’m makin’ coffee. Damnit, I need it!” 

 

Tuesday had been up since Bobby’s first step across their bedroom: as he barreled into the kitchen to brew breakfast, she stepped aside and held out a mug of coffee as dark as she could brew it. “The rest of it’s in the library. “

 

“Thanks, ‘day. Didya see what’s outside the window?” Tuesday nodded and frowned. “This is Tamson Forest?”

 

“A part of it. When everything settles down here, I’ll take you for a walk through what I’ve seen.” Bobby looked up as if he was seeing the tallest of the trees through the ceiling of the kitchen. 

 

“We may want to go for that walk before too much longer,” Tuesday replied thoughtfully as they left the kitchen and walked to the library. Bobby looked askance at her and swallowed his words. 

 

Sam and Dean had been the first couple to arrive. Seated on the couch they had first claimed days ago, Sam stared straight ahead and waited for Dean to return to his side. “Bobby, when did this batch of kindling show up on our back doorstep?”

 

“During the night. Dean, just settle down and drink some coffee. It’s strong enough even for you. Sam, you all right?”

 

“Sure,” Sam started nonchalantly. Within a few seconds, however, his shoulders slumped and his gaze drifted back to Dean. “Dean?”

 

“Coming, baby. I just wanted to look at the trees. And – shit Dad? Where’s Dad? “

 

“I dunno. I woke him up first: he should be all cleaned up and ready to go by now.”

 

“We are,” John reassured everyone. “We needed a shower.”

 

“Uh huh. Coffee’s there. Tamson Forest’s there.” Bobby thumbed over his shoulder at the window. “Have a look see. ‘Morning, Jared.”

 

“I can’t stay. Jensen won’t come out of the room. He saw that the Forest has come to get him. What the hell does he mean?”

 

“First, it hasn’t. It’s its own self, and I ain’t sayn’ it can’t do things, but it’s not here to interfere with True Met people. Second, he still figures that the Forest meant to spirit him away that first time he saw it. I don’t think that was the case, but what I think doesn’t help now.” Bobby sighed and glanced over at John. “John, you’re First Met. Jensen respects you. Try’n get him to come out here?”

 

“Bobby, he’s not my Otherself. I can’t influence…”

 

“John, he may listen to you.” Jared spoke reluctantly, his natural protectiveness of Jensen wrestling with the memory of the first time Jensen had talked to John on the phone. “Dad? Do you remember that?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

“He still slips up. Go on and talk to him. He can’t hide in there forever. I’ll-er-keep Jeff company.”

 

“I feel like that chick that lived in a shoe. Too damn many kids.”

 

“You’re prettier’n’ Mother Goose,” Dean said innocently. Just before he began to chuckle at the image of John in an apron herding wild two year olds around. Sam’s laughter shook his shoulders; he tried holding it in and turned beet red before it exploded and filled the room.

 

Jared and Jensen’s room faced the atrium: John had forgotten about that. But he’d had no way of knowing that the Forest would choose last night to become more self- aware and more visible in the atrium. “Jensen?”

 

Huddled in one of two overstuffed chairs in the reading nook, Jensen didn’t look up. He wasn’t blinking, either. He just sat staring at the floor or the wall, breathing slow and easy, but far away from the moment. John decided he needed to take a risk. “Son?”

 

“Dad?” Jensen fell into his role like a rock off a ledge. “Dad?”

 

“Sammy’s worried about you. C’mon. Let’s get out where there’s more light. I even have a pretty decent cup of coffee for you. C’mon, son.”

 

Jensen nodded and pushed himself to his feet. Just that simple movement seemed to lift some of the haze that had built around him. “Dad? I mean – John. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you Dad.”

 

“It’s okay, son. You steady enough to walk?”

 

“It can’t get in here, can it?”

 

“As far as I know, it doesn’t want to be inside. Hold on-take another breath.” John slid an arm around Jensen’s waist and waited until the younger man was able to stand without knees knocking. “Jared’s waiting for you. Let’s get out there.” 

 

Jensen cleared his throat and nodded, but didn’t pull away from John. When he glanced over at the Hunter, all he saw in John’s expression was grave concern. “I’m not insane, John.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“You mean that?”

 

“Yup.”

 

And they grinned at each other. “You know – that –“Jensen blurted. “You know –“and waved his free hand in the air in front of himself.

 

“Yeah. Me too.” They both cleared their throats and, without further ado, went in search of Jared and Jeff. 

 

“Okay, if all of you lovebirds are ready, let’s get crackin’. Somethin’ happened last night.”

 

“You’re a master of understatement, Bobby,” Christabel interjected as she walked into the room. “The rest of Tamson House is safe, beyond those oaks over there,” she added, pointing across the former atrium and between two mammoth tree trunks. “But there’s more Forest on the other side of that part of the house. Whatever caused the woods to leak into our space is a serious threat or the wood would have kept the atrium clear.”

 

“Have you been out in the Forest yet?” Jared asked.

 

“No. I’ve been looking for the rest of the house and then decided I’d come back and find you before I go out. Wait –“Christabel’s sharp eyesight had caught something moving just at the edge of the Forest. “Someone’s coming over this way. Through the atrium. Well, I’ll-“

 

“Bobby?” Dean followed the line of Christabel’s stare and his eyebrows arched. “Are those – elves? Christabel?”

 

“They’re High Kindred, all right. And that’s Cerin. ” Christabel hurried to the window and tapped sharply on it, and, when one of the Kindred looked up, gestured to her left, to an inner entrance to the house from the atrium. “I’m going to meet them. Stay here.”

 

In the abrupt silence left after her departure, everyone stared at each other. “High Kindred?” Jensen asked. “John?”

 

“They’re a legend. At least I thought they were a legend. The D’rRn may know more.” John looked to D’rRn for confirmation. 

 

“If the John Winchester will translate.” D’rRn approached and waited for John’s nod of assent. “According to the oldest stories handed down by the mothers of our mothers’ mothers, long ago, the High Kindred and the Daemon formed part of the same family. But their lives were bound for wandering and learning along the way. Ours were bound to staying and building and learning from the world around us. I am saying this briefly. The whole story would take months to tell correctly.

 

“There are some who fear the Kindred and some among the Kindred who fear us. Neither of us meet the other often, but there is no enmity between the two. This one has met more than some. They are kindred of ours, Elder or not. The one will greet them.” Briefly, he looked at Jeff. “Will the one release my charge for that?”

 

“Yes.” Jeff whispered and bowed his head. “If the one returns to his charge quickly.”

 

“Indeed.” D’rRn’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. A quick nod of his head and he turned to go, leaving a very confused John Winchester behind him. 

 

“Jeff? What was that?” Baffled, John peered into Jeff’s eyes. 

 

Smiling, Jeff replied “He knows who’s in charge here. That’s all.” Then squeaked when John caught his lips in a teasing kiss. Laughing, he smiled fondly up at his hero. “Of course, I let you think you’re the boss. But that’s because I’m all kinds of awesome that way.”

 

“Okay, if you two lovvie dovvie types will put a lid on it?” Bobby had swallowed another mug of hot coffee and felt much more like tackling what he’d learned. “I didn’t wake you up just for the fun of it.”

 

And suddenly the air in the room shifted. Looking at Sam, John and Jared and their Otherselves, Nancy saw the merest wisp of colorsong coalescing behind each, just a faint glitter that went even lighter until only an occasional sparkle like that of light catching on dust motes captured her attention. Cradling her mug of coffee between her palms, she turned her attention to Bobby.

 

“Something bothered me yesterday – before you say a damn word, let me finish. There wasn’t time to stop and figure out what was causin’ the problem, but whatever it was didn’t let go of me once things had settled down here. I went over everything half the night, trying to remember.”

 

“I’m guessing you did about ten minutes before you walked out of the house this morning. Without anyone to have your back,” John growled. He didn’t say it but “you damn idiot” lurked next in line in terms of words he wanted to use.

 

“Shut up, John, and listen to me, willya?”

 

“Sure, Bobby.” John’s eyebrows drew together as he watched his oldest friend and saw the worry in Bobby’s expression.

 

“I smelled it yesterday. But it took until last night to add everything up. This morning I went out and took a look at my pickup’s bed and there it was, right where Lucinda Larch would have been bouncing around. Sulfur.”

 

“Sir,” Jared spoke quietly, but he was having difficulty keeping his poise. “Sulfur. Brimstone.” John waited for Jared to keep talking. Originally annoyed, he saw the looks that Jeff, Jared, and Jensen exchanged and realized that something had them acting like ghosts had walked over their graves. Baffled, he waited for a moment and then turned to Bobby.

 

Sam had spent the night in Dean’s arms, half sleeping, half awake or dreaming somewhere in between. When he heard the tone of Jared’s voice, he looked to Dean and shivered, much too far away from his Otherself. “What are you talking about, Jared?” The actor didn’t answer, instead reaching for Jensen and pulling him into his lap. 

 

Bobby cleared his throat and spoke. “Sulfur is the sign of the Devil. Satan. Lucifer. The Lord of the Underworld. I had to think about this most of the night before I remembered it: I haven’t studied the damn text in probably forty years; the one with the story of Purgatory and Hell in it. It’s a classic of mythology, actually. Until about an hour ago, I thought that that was all it was. Took a few notes at the time and scribbled a couple of questions and never opened it again.

 

“Then I remembered that sigil that somebody tried to draw on the house where you were staying in Breckenridge. Glasya. And I remembered that name being a crib note written in really grey ink in the margin of a page. I flipped the book open and thought about reading more of it then stuffed it back on its shelf. Now I wish I hadn’t.” Bobby frowned to himself and shook his head. 

 

“Bobby, do you have anything to tell us, or are we walking down memory lane here?”

 

“John, don’t you have stories of Heaven and Hell here?” Jeff stared wide-eyed at John. “Hell – where sinners go at the end of their lives?”

 

“You know – the place Lucifer was cast into when he refused to acknowledge the supremacy of God.” Jared caught the confused looks on the faces of the Winchesters and swallowed nervously. 

 

“Uh – Lucifer. Satan? Old Nick? Beelzebub? The Devil? The Dark One? The Fallen Angel?” Jensen saw not a flicker of recognition and reached out for Jared, who held him close.

 

“Guys, from what I can tell, you’re talking about fairy tales coming to life, here. And all of this is because you found sulfur in your truck’s bed, Bobby? That’s damn thin evidence to go on, and you know it.”

 

Jared suddenly understood part of John’s frustration. From the look of things, John Winchester’s world didn’t include a Biblical Hell or Satan. The whole idea was new and the Hunter needed details so he could fit a few pieces into an entirely new puzzle.

 

“Satan’s the king of Hell. He had been one of God’s most beloved angels, but wouldn’t kneel before God, because his pride wouldn’t let him. So God tossed him and his followers out of heaven. Lucifer was exiled to Hell and set up housekeeping. Short term. He is supposed to have other ideas in mind. Starting with ruling the World.”

 

“What? C’mon, Jared! Who is this guy? ”

 

“I’m giving you the condensed version. Bobby, is there a chance that the book that outlines the myth was called The Inferno? Or Purgatory?” 

 

“Would Hell and Purgatory Transcribed work?”

 

“Close enough. Really dense poem and prose thing?”

 

“Yeah. By some monk named Algius?”

 

“Algius?” 

 

“Yeah. As far as I know, the name is the only certain thing about him.” Bobby screwed his eyes shut, attempting to remember what he’d seen in the Introduction to the obscure translation he’d found at a yard sale. “He dedicated it to the truth of his God for the enlightenment of his brothers. He coulda been a monk. Or a priest. No one knows for sure. Wading through the damn thing gave me a headache.”

 

“But you read it.”

 

“Oh yeah – I read it all right.” Bobby snorted. “Bunch of overblown poetic drama about the circles of Hell, which is one place I wouldn’t ever want to visit, thanks. And Purgatory, which, from what I got out of it, was a waiting room for the almost bad enough to go to hell to atone for their sins and those not quite good enough for heaven to atone for theirs. If that mythos is the sort of thing that people believed when this Algius wrote, it’s a clean wonder to me that Christianity survived at all.”

 

“Algius – Alighieri?” Jared wondered. “Dante Alighieri is the author of Paradise Lost, which includes the Inferno and Purgatory. Maybe- I suppose it could have been a parallel event?”

 

“It’s possible,” Nancy said. “So is a near-pass between both universes. Not anything like the Permian disaster. Something much less meaningful. We need to study everything before we decide about that.”

 

“Let’s assume for the sake of argument that there was a close run by between the two universes: that would explain why we have something like your text in this universe. But it’s pure myth! Good guys and bad guys, and a bunch of really gross descriptive parts tossed in. Did this Dante ever meet the historical Lucifer?”

 

“No – he was telling a story. No one’s ever seen something or someone rising from the earth and saying his name was Lucifer or Beelzebub or any of the other names he’s been known by. But there are a lot of people that claim that demons - not daemons – walk the earth and possess the weak. Scholars have been adamant since the work was published that it’s an allegory, a dream. ” Jared frowned and looked at Jensen. “The only demons I know of are the ones that people make up and live with during their lives. The things that hold them back or twist them or make them blind to danger. Things in their heads. Not real demons possessing people.”

 

“But there are a lot of other things,” Jensen added quietly. “Shadows that move on their own, people who can shake mountains if they need a good rock slide. Crow girls and coyotes who aren’t. There are all sorts of reports about the ghouls and spirits we hunted every week on the show.”

 

“Which makes sense, because _they’re_ real,” John muttered. “Bobby, this still sounds too much like a myth tale for my liking. There’s not a stick of evidence other than that sulfur that we’re dealing with something we’ve never had to deal with before.” John felt Jeff shivering against him and pressed him closer, in as much distress in reaction to Jeff as he was annoyed that something from another universe altogether may have decided to move in.

 

“And when did we ever have pile of evidence pointing to something we know is bad news?” Bobby heard Sam’s colorsong begin to hum softly and saw Dean’s moving out to meet it as their lips touched and they slid their arms around each other. “Guys! Try not to fuck each other right now, okay? Jeff, you got anything to add?”

 

“Bobby, if Jared’s worried, I’m worried.” 

 

“If there is something named Lucifer, no matter what it really is, we are in a world of trouble,” Jensen said. “I did some reading a long time ago, when the series first started. Lucifer isn’t like the Lucifer on the show. Satan is an angel, an angel and a king. When Dante did his writing, being a king was the political way to go so Dante wrote what he knew. At least, that’s what –“

 

“I know. We know. Scholars have said. Can you just get to the point, son?” 

 

John’s protective instincts had kicked into overdrive, and he dropped straight into Hunter-dad mode. Startled, Jensen glanced down at his hands and replied, “Sorry, sir.” Bobby jumped in before Jared could say a word; the freakin’ last thing they needed was an argument to throw them off track.

 

“John, we’re looking for information. What else do you know about this Lucifer guy?” Jensen refused to look up. “Jared?”

 

“Lucifer wants to come to the surface of the Earth and establish a kingdom. And then, if he has his way, he wants to attack Heaven and destroy God. Who just happens to be his father. All he needs is the soldiery. Sinners are his army and there are a lot of them sharing air. Demons are his recruiters. ” Jared paused and stared at each of them in turn. “Get this straight. Lucifer isn’t a _guy_. He’s a fallen _angel_. He rules other fallen angels, like Glasya, who’s one of the lords of the Underworld and a general. And fallen or not – he’s incredibly powerful. Makes Lucinda Larch look like some little girl playing dress up with mommy’s makeup.” Jared paused and glared directly at John. “John, I respect you more than anyone I know other than my Mom and Dad. But don’t you ever speak to Jensen like that again. Am. I. Clear?” The actor’s voice remained calm, but the look on his face would have frozen molten iron.

 

John nodded shortly: it was one thing to be John Winchester to Jensen when he needed support. It was something else to bully him. “Clear. Jensen, I was off base.” Jensen cleared his throat and replied, “Thanks, John,” before lapsing back into silence against Jared. Jared leaned down and nuzzled his lover, distracting him a bit, wanting to -

 

“All right, you Idjits. There’s no time for sniffin’ asses and claiming each other. We have one other thing to deal with before we go huntin’ Lucy.” He looked out at the Forest where it had emerged over night. “Something brought it here. I mean, brought it to visibility here-“

 

His train of thought got interrupted when Christabel, Cerin and the two High Kindred entered the library.


	35. Chapter 33 part 2

  
Author's notes: The Epilogue doesn't count as a chapter, right? That's next. Here's Part 2 of Chapter 33.  


* * *

Part 2 (Madge)

 

Both of the Kindred had been injured; however, their easy stances and cautious alertness spoke of minor damage. Dean stared curiously at them and tightened his grip on Sam. The legends of The Forest included tales of young people being spirited away by the Kindred to live in their kingdoms, lost to their families forever. And ever since Sam had nearly been lost walking at the edge of the Forest, Dean treated Myth as Fact.

 

Jensen hadn’t known what to expect: his experience with Elves was limited to reading and the occasional movie. The two beings who hobbled into the room fit- and didn’t fit- his expectations. He realized that the Kindred were, in a way, like Meran, who was an Oak King’s daughter living a very non-regal life. Yet, anyone speaking with her felt the presence of something deeper, something that infused every action and word with a subtle additional dimension.

 

The actor’s first impression was of two people who could have been brothers. Both had gray eyes and thin lips. They stood about the same height – perhaps six feet. The one nearest Jensen had dark chestnut hair cut as short as his own; the second’s blue-black mane was braided near his face and hung loose past the top of his shoulders in back. They both sported faint beard stubble along with various bruises and cuts; they looked like any battle tired human. However, when the chestnut haired one blinked his eyes, his nictitating membrane lagged a nanosecond behind his outer eyelid. 

 

Each wore clothing in colors meant to blend in with the forest in which they lived. Chestnut’s shirt had been decorated with coppery metallic stitching that flickered as light bounced off it, much as sunlight would move in and out of leaf shadow. The pattern circled on itself and spiraled from waist to collar before sweeping back down his shoulders and ending in a thin ribbon around his cuffs. Blue-black only wore color in one place. A silver cuff set with beryl and chalcedony covered his wrist and five inches of his lower arm.

 

A quick glance toward the doorway of the library revealed two high powered rifles leaning against the frame; a pair of long bladed knives rested beside them. No bows and arrows for these two: Dean heard Sam’s disappointed sigh and, being a lover possessing massive survival skills, did not smile. 

 

“Neither of our guests speaks our language. I’ll translate, if that is acceptable,” Cerin stated after a brief conversation with both Elves. “They have news. But first – “ he motioned to both kindred sit and take their ease. Moving with a slowness that sharply reminded the Winchesters of themselves on the third day of a ten day hunt, the Elves plopped down.

 

So much for regal, slender elegance, Sam thought to himself. Dean might have heard his brother’s mind at work: he poked Sam in the side and did his best not to laugh. Once again, their color songs reached out to each other, and Sam’s cock twitched as Dean’s stiffened. Only Bobby’s Glare of Death backed up by John’s Eyebrow of Doom kept them from going any further. Yet. 

 

“'n befr chryfder and 'n bybyr aes were ambushed late the day before yesterday just outside the edge of the Forest, near the point where Kellygnow Wood has put down roots, although on the far side of the Now when from here. Word had come of a stranger trampling through the woods, poking and prodding at the borders. When they were sent to investigate, they walked right into a trap. Fortunately, they limped back out again and called in help.” 

 

Cerin paused for a moment and listened to ‘n befr chryfder- who, Dean decided, was going to remain Brush Cut as far as he was concerned. Cerin nodded gravely and continued. “They have never seen creatures like the ones they faced. The only good news, if it can be called that, is that most of these them can die either by bullet or knife.” 

 

“Most of them?” Jeff whispered.

 

“Some didn’t. But they were driven off, away from the Wood and toward the Forest. They won’t come out.” Cerin smiled grimly.

 

'n bybyr aes interrupted, saying only one word. “Larch.”

 

“They captured Lucinda Larch.” 'n befr chryfder spoke quietly and urgently with Cerin, who nodded again and translated. “It was too easy. Both ‘n befr chryfder and ‘nbybyr aes are longtime border sentries. They know when something isn’t right. ”

 

“Lucinda Larch is under guard. The rest of ‘n befr’s group has her; they’re waiting with her just outside the wards. They know it’s a trap just like we do. But we need information, and she’s the only one who can give it to us.” Cerin sighed and stared bleakly around at everyone. 

 

“Let’s go get it from her, then.” John grated the words and rose to his feet. Turning to Jeff, he offered his left arm. “If the one Jeffrey Otherself will.” A quick, nervous nod greeted his words, and, hand barely touching John, Jeff stood. A quick glance at John’s weaponry sufficed to reassure him. John straightened the gun tucked in the back of Jeff’s waistband and started toward the front door with his Otherself on his arm.

 

Of all of them, only Christabel remained behind, already deep in weaving more wardings around Tamson House. 

 

D’rRn stopped for a second to ensure that D’s and Tehan hadn’t decided to play wounded but noble soldiers and hobble out to almost certain battle. Torn between watching over Tehan and D’s and standing guard over John and his Otherself, he knelt by their bed and asked, “Will the ones forgive my leaving you to guard the John Winchester?”

 

Tehan shook his head and smiled sleepily. “Go now and defend the one John Winchester in all of our names.”

 

D’s smiled quietly and added, “What this one has told you.” Then seriously, “The one John Winchester cannot come to harm.”

 

“He will not.”

 

D’s watched his lover’s mother’s sister’s son stride from the room and turned his gaze to Tehan. “Sleep now. Tomorrow, Meran willing or no, we must cross the Un again. We’ve been gone too long.”

 

“But first, now-“Tehan interrupted, his voice syrupy smooth and full of suggestion, “Perhaps –“

 

D’s made a show of deliberating over his decision, but it was foregone. Only the security of Tehan’s arms around him and their bodies joined kept his grief at bay. He desperately wanted to hear the laughter of his children and to see them, even if only for a brief time before he and Tehan were needed elsewhere. At the thought of his young ones, safe with the mother of their mother as well as of his mother, but deprived of their own mother’s presence, he choked. And the memory of his dearlove’s broken body crumpled on the ground in front of their home broke the last of his restraint. Tears flowed again and he hid his face against Tehan’s chest, struggling for control.

 

Tehan kissed him deeply and possessively swallowing D’s sobs as he did so. D’s slung one leg over Tehan’s waist and pulled back a little as Tehan covered his fingers with spit and pre come, soaked the length of his cock and slid into D’s, gentle, careful. D’s straightened slowly, holding Te’s hands, his lover’s stiff sex deeper and deeper into him, until he found the angle he needed. Encumbered by his injured ankle, Tehan waited until D’s squeezed his fingers and pushed down on him before he set up a rhythm. 

 

D’s heavy cock throbbed against his belly and jerked with each thrust Tehan pushed past his prostate. He moaned with pleasure as his sex rubbed against his belly hair, the softness of it like silk against him. “Come for me, D’s. Feel yourself coming for me-“Tehan whispered, knowing to the second when the tension that sent precome rolling out of D’s straining tip grew to be too much. “Feel it? Fire…gods you’re beautiful! Rub your balls against – me – “ His hands tightened on D’s and he hissed, “There! Let it go – let it – _oh gods_!” 

 

They came together, D’s without being touched, Tehan watching as his lover arched into the moment then coming deep inside him.

 

Panting and shivering, they slowly came back to themselves, fingers entwined, then bodies pressed close as sleep claimed them. Tehan made certain D’s was warm enough before he gave way and tumbled into unconsciousness. 

 

****

 

Lucinda Larch sat on a fallen log between two soldiers of the High Kindred. In silence, the guard to her left had offered her water from a canteen but had refused to accept the container back when she had attempted to return it. Before she had spoken, the guard to her right had walked into the wood and returned with the log, set it on the ground and stepped away, ignoring her completely. The slight was obvious, since both whatever they talked to each other freely enough. Nettled, she nevertheless sat still and silent, while thoughts swirled through her mind.

 

Through a thinning in the strange lights around Tamson House, she thought she saw figures leaving the building. The lights thickened again and she could only see golds and silvers faint outlines that looked like the irritating clutter of celtic knotwork. 

 

Tamson House: she should have been welcomed there. She’d managed to divert the curiosity of Glasya, at great cost to herself. And, for a time at least, Earth was hers to mend, to return to its pristine condition. Glasya had promised that. This is your charge, human. You have summoned me and freed me from bondage. I repay your deed and give you this place to do with as you will. My – interests – lie elsewhere.

 

The images that Glasya was showed her mind then had nearly drowned her sanity. Worlds upon worlds, space weaving in and out among them, dustings of stars on the swirling planes of galaxies beyond number. Worlds inside worlds beside worlds - a universe far beyond her ken. Battered by the chaotic impressions, she had barely noticed when her forearm had been slashed by one long fingernail and then pressed against a slash on Glasya’s own arm. But the agony of Glasya’s burning ichor had snatched her from confusion and thrown her back to the moment. The rumbling voice in her head spoke on, heedless of her pain.

 

Use your wits. You have unleashed more than you know. Bend it to your will and you will survive. Fail and you will not. Do not presume to deceive me. I will know if you are not a loyal retainer. But, for now, this insignificant place is not my concern. I go to seek my liege lord.”

 

And it had disappeared, the air around it coming back together with a sound like a vast door slamming. When she’d looked down at her arm, the wound had closed and left a ragged grey scar. 

 

Still caught in memory, she glanced down, reminding herself that there had, indeed, been Glasya and that she had been marked by It. 

 

“Lucy, stop daydreaming.” Bobby snapped the words and shattered her reverie. “What the hell are you up to?”

 

“Up to? Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?” Lucinda Larch had spent her life studying the best methods for intimidating people and defending against attack. Bristling, she went into battle first. “I demand to know what you think you’re doing! What are these – things? Why have you ordered them to treat me like a prisoner?” 

 

Bobby sighed and stepped back to allow Nancy Creek to the front. He’d played word and head games with far more crafty beings than Lucy. And he used mental akido like a master.

 

“Enough! Lucinda Larch, this is no game. We’re here for one reason only. We want detail of everything that you’ve done.” Nancy’s tone had intimidated far braver and far more stubborn people that Lucinda Larch. Refusing to be drawn into a staring war, she let her gaze take in every detail of the other woman, from the top of her head to the tops of her feet. Although Lucinda folded her arms across her chest, Nancy’s sharp eyes detected the wrinkled end of the scar Glasya had left. Although her heart missed a beat and her mind filled with dread, Nancy Creek was not a person to be trifled with; repressing her dread, she marched across the grass to her quarry and yanked her arm straight forward by the wrist. “Tell us what you’ve done and what did this to you. Bobby?”

 

Bobby took a long look at the ragged scar and frowned. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The skin’s grey. Don’t touch it, Nancy. Who knows what the hell this idiot’s done?”

 

“I’ve saved the planet is what I’ve _done!_ ” Stung by Bobby’s sarcasm, Lucinda drew herself up to her full -seated- height and glared at him. “If it wasn’t for me, Glasya would be using our world as a base of operations!” Her righteous indignation would have provided power to a small town, but Bobby and Nancy remained unimpressed. “If I hadn’t reminded Glasya about the other worlds out there –“and she waved her hand vaguely, “he would have stayed here. You should be thanking me, not treating me like a criminal!”

 

Jeff, standing beside John, heard every word Lucinda said. The sensation of time escaping them while Lucinda Larch deluded herself, of something coming that had never happened before spurred his reaction. He let go of John’s arm and shoved forward between Jared and Sam, fists clenched at his sides. Under his feet, the ground growled, responding to him. In spite of himself, Bobby felt a slip of a smile heading toward his lips. Lucinda paled.

 

“Saved the planet? Saved the planet? _This is what you did.” Jeff went quiet and dangerous. “You summoned Glasya. You have freed a _fallen angel_ who just happens to answer only to Lucifer. You. No one else. You. You have threatened the merging of two universes. You have threatened those whom I love. You. Because, you stupid, vicious bitch, you summoned It.” _

_Lucinda made a move to speak. “Don’t you dare open your mouth. Understand this. I know that you are building walls in your mind to block out my words. I know that you think, in your small, nasty way, that you really are helping to save the world you think you knew. I know that we will end up paying dearly for your blindness and arrogance. You’re transparent as a greasy, wrinkled piece of butcher paper._

_“Hear me. No matter what you do, no matter what walls you build, no matter what you say or try, underneath it all, you know that I’m saying the truth. You disgust me.”_

_Lucinda Larch’s tiny crimson bow lips tightened and she narrowed her round blue eyes. “I did exactly what I said I did! I convinced Glasya to look at other universes! Better places! Out there! And it worked! He’s gone! And I convinced him to go! And he’s left me to -”_

_“Left you to what?” Jeff held his ground and dug in deeper, forcing his adversary to remain seated, at bay. Earth shivered again as it echoed his fury._

_“Left me to continue my work! To repair the seams that are torn! To make my home the way it was before _this_ happened. And I’ll do it! And nothing you can say or do will stop me!” Forgetting where she was, she started to stand, only to be pushed back down by her guards. “Call these animals off me!”_

_“You summoned It,” Jeff repeated one more time. Fury twisted inside him and shook the ground under him. “You disgust me!”_

_Shaking in his rage, he turned his back to her and strode to John, who caught him under his forearms just before his strength gave way. “Jeff!” John cried out. Jared and Sam turned as one and stepped back to help John lay Jeff on the ground. “No! I have him! Jeff!”_

_Lucinda took the infinitesimal break in people’s concentration to come to her feet and shout to her followers. “Now!”_

_Sam heard the crashing of heavy feet trampling through underbrush and the growl of engines somewhere farther away. The Kindred, their hearing keener than a human’s, had already sprung into motion, grabbing Lucinda Larch and hauling her down behind a large boulder that Dean could have sworn hadn’t been there five minutes earlier. He wheeled to go to John and Jeff and found that D’rRn had already helped John lift Jeff to get the unconscious man out of the open. By the time Dean grabbed Jensen, who stood nearest him, Sam had reached Jared and the rest of the Kindred had disappeared into the near edge of the wards, hidden in the scrub and brush there. “C’mon! Get her back behind the wards! Move!” Dean shouted, shepherding Sam, Jared and Jensen toward the two kindred who held tight to their eely prisoner. “C’MON! Bobby? Bobby!”_

_The older hunter hollered back from a point twenty feet to Dean’s right and inside the wards “Safe! Move it, Dean!”_

_They didn’t understand the words, but the kindred understood Dean’s motions. Dragging Lucinda, they retreated to the safety of the wards, only to be stopped when the boundaries refused to let Lucinda through._

_From behind them came a confused roaring noise, like the sound of wind before a tornado. Wavering in and out were words and cries. And the voices came from everywhere – down near the ground and up almost as high as the tree tops._

_“Damn!” Dean snarled. He looked up, and up at a giant of Biblical proportions. Not hideous or malformed. Massive and intelligent from the look on its face. Intent on one thing – reaching them and destroying anything in its way to do that. “Sam! Get everyone back!”_

_A shot pinged too near, and a second found its mark. Without a sound, one of the kindred slid to the ground, bleeding out within seconds from a bullet to his heart. Startled, the second sentry relaxed his punishing grip on Lucinda and she yanked free. A bullet skidded across Jensen’s shoulder and thunked into the ground behind him. Instantly, Dean pulled him around and shoved him into the safety of the wards. “Sam! C’mon! Jared! YOU!” this to the remaining Kindred “C’mon! Move!” Last through, Dean spun and started firing, knowing it was useless. The wards couldn’t stop something like this. If nothing else, Warrior Giant Boy was going to climb over them and take Tamson House down board by brick._

_None of them wanted to retreat. None of them wanted to watch as Lucinda Larch was scooped up by four of her personal bodyguard and shoved into an armored vehicle. Torn between the need to get her back and the real fact that they were outnumbered at least eight to one, the defenders of Tamson House watched as the truck carrying their quarry spun its wheels into the dirt and charged off out of firing range._

_John felt Jeff stirring in his arms and tore his gaze away from the behemoth. The behemoth who had stopped for only a second, to evaluate the defenses in front of him. “Baby boy -“_

_“John, help me up. Please! I know what to do! Please help me!” Jeff framed John’s face between his hands and forced him to stare into his eyes. “I have to do this!” John shook his head “No” and begged Jeff voicelessly. “I have to. And you and the others will lend me Intent. There’s not a lot of time.”_

_D’rRn felt something rolling through the air around all of them, the echo of another something moving deep in the earth. And, in spite of the situation and the fact that the giant had managed to punch a hole in one section of the wards, in spite of all that, he realized that a thread of hope had risen in his mind. “The John Winchester must help his Otherself. Please.”_

_Another hole gaped in the ward, this one larger, but, oddly, healed immediately, and not by Christabel’s spells. A dark green interlacing replaced the damaged gold and silver. A roaring wind to match the snarling beast of air outside the wards began to stir behind Tamson House. Jensen, sitting leaning against Dean, heard it and felt it. Dean, and then Sam, Jared and then John were swept into the wordless music-less moment and their color songs raced toward each other, not tentative, marking no pattern other than their sounds. Jeff’s silverblue and John’s greengold met as they had earlier, but this time with Intent and Awareness._

_At the same time, the howling of the wind behind them sank and fell back, waiting. Waiting as the color songs sang and tightened themselves around their Singers. One second, two seconds, and before three seconds, Jeff, secure in John’s arms, closed his eyes and reached out. And down. Down deep in front of the creature bent on the destruction of Tamson House and all within and around it. The fury of Tamson Forest blasted forth and the earth beneath the Giant shuddered and gave back as a sharply broken piece of basalt flung itself directly up under him and split his torso in half at the waist as he fell. Hollow and dry and only a shell the instant he was destroyed._

_The wrath of the Forest swirled over Christabel’s wards like a hurricane and scattered Lucinda Larch’s troops before it. Jeff slumped back in John’s arms. And the color songs sang the defense, protecting all of them, but most especially the frail ribbon of silver and blue that wavered unsteadily until green gold wrapped it tenderly in its folds._

_Shattered, John leaned over Jeff and called out to him. “Jeff?” No answer. And he couldn’t feel breath. “No, no-no. You can’t – no! Wait for me! Please!” Around him, he felt darkness flickering. “I love you. Please. Wait for me!” More darkness, no sound of Jeff’s song only a faint light far beyond his reach. Unprotesting, he fell toward it._

_While the color songs keened._

_****_

_Everyone stood where they were, horrified. John lay slumped beside Jeff, tears still wet on his face. Sam grabbed Dean and buried his face in Dean’s neck, too stunned to cry. D’rRn just stared, disbelieving. Jared felt Jensen trembling and tried to comfort him._

_But Jensen wasn’t to be comforted. “No! John Winchester! Jeffrey Dean Morgan Winchester! You get your lazy asses back here – _NOW_!” he snapped. “I’m not going to say this again. Get back here _NOW_! Take a nap on your _OWN_ damn time!”_

_Dean shot a look at Jensen, who sounded more like Dean than Dean usually did himself. Jensen was damned angry. And bleeding. And in pain. He’d read both men through their color songs (page gods knew what in Eudora’s Book of Shadows) and knew they weren’t gone. Knew it despite visible evidence to the contrary. Knew._

_Jeff stirred and opened his eyes, confused. “John? John?” Alarmed, he tried to go after John’s greengold only to hear “Stop shoutin’! I’m getting up! Baby – what the hell?”_

_Jensen struggled to his feet and limped over to John. “Don’t you ever, and I mean _ever_ make me do that again!” _

_“What’d I do? Baby-boy?”_

_“I don’t know, John. Why’s it so quiet?”_

_Dean saw Jensen begin to fall and grabbed him. “Damn fool! You’re hurt! Jared? Get him inside so Meran can take a look at him! No – Dad, you stay right where you are. You too, Jeff. D’rRn – damn it, I don’t know how to say– Sam?”_

_“The Dean Winchester would have the D’rRn help.”_

_“Yes.”_

_D’rRn knelt by John and helped him to sit. “No – the D’rRn – help the Jeffrey Otherself. Please.”_

_Jeff found himself being carried into the house by D’rRn, who ignored his protests and deposited him very carefully on the largest couch in the library. John made the trip under his own power, with Sam holding him up on one side and Dean on the other. Before five minutes passed, the two First Met lay together inside warm blankets and D’rRn stood the watch over them until they slept. Only then did he allow himself the luxury of a sigh of relief._

_****_

_Dean hauled himself into his and Sam’s bedroom and stared stupidly at the darkened space. Shower? Sleep? Sammy? What the – Sammy. Behind him, Sam closed the door and sagged against it. “Dean, come here,” he whispered as he pulled Dean back against him. Dean turned and reached up, cradled the back of Sam’s head and brought him close, delayed shock and rising relief warring inside him. His fingers worked at Sam’s belt and he had his jeans open and them and his boxer briefs shoved down before Sam knew what hit him._

_Sam knew he smelled like hell and he was sweaty and gross and he didn’t care. Because Dean slid down and captured his cock on the way, swallowing it deep before he’d even reached his knees. Sam murmured “Dean…” his brother’s name his entire world as he felt Dean’s mouth working around the length of his cock and his fingers playing gently with his balls._

_Alive. They had survived again. Alive. His cock filled slowly enough that he could feel it swelling and he whispered, “Baby – Dean. Bed? Please. I want – uhhh you in me.” Dean shook his head worrying at the bundle of sensitive nerves under the head of Sam’s cock, burying his nose in the curls at his brother’s groin, licking them and before glazing Sam's sex with his spit and swallowing him again. Loving it, needing to know that Sam was there and safe and whole. When Sam pulled Dean’s left hand up and licked his fingers until they were slick, Dean nodded or, maybe, smiled a little around the swollen flesh in his mouth._

_“Three – now. Dean. Three. Nowuugh!” Sam’s knees shook and he thrust deep into Dean’s throat as Dean’s fingers massaged inside him. Eyes squeezed shut, mind focused only on the feel of Dean’s mouth on him, Sam held back as much as he could, not wanting to choke his lover. But Dean wasn’t having any of it._

_Fiercely, he sucked and swallowed, forcing Sam into motion, not pulling back except to rock forward and swallow him again, more deeply. Sam felt himself stiffen and swell until Dean licked the underside of his dick once before he dove back down onto it and swallowed repeatedly, snatching breaths and pushing Sam, pulling him and pushing him again with his insistent fingers. Over the edge until Sam literally screamed and came down his throat._

_Before he’d finished his release, Sam stepped out of his jeans, went to his knees and then rolled onto his back, legs tight against his chest. “Now Dean…now…please-can’t-please!” Jeans and boxers down around his knees, leaking cock already purple and dripping pre come, Dean shoved Sam’s legs apart enough so he could lean down and kiss him, hard and ready to come without even getting inside._

_But it was Sam’s turn to be insistent. He yanked Dean a little closer and, gently despite the fact that he was half out of his mind with need, guided Dean’s cock to his entrance, held it still and then pressed it into him. Startled, Dean reacted the instant he felt Sam warm and ready around him. Knew that the first thrust was going to be the last. Didn’t care. Chest wet with the come that had pasted Sam’s belly, he pushed in when Sam arched his ass up. And came._

_And came. Growling Sam’s name. Nothing else. Samsamsam. Where he life began and where it would end. Sam. His. Sam._

_As soon as he could move, he crawled up Sam’s body and kissed him, deep and gentle and as possessive of Sam as Sam was of him. “I love you.”_

_Sam nodded and wrapped his arms tight around his brother. “I love you, too.”_

_“Sammy?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“We didn’t make the bed.”_

_“Hmmm.” Long, lazy pause followed as they calmed each other with hands and lips. “Dean?” Shower?”_

_“Uh hmmm. “_

_“In case I haven’t told you?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“I love you.”_

_“Well, I _was_ beginning to wonder-“ _

_Laughing like lunatics, they shed the rest of their clothes before they struggled to their feet, leaning crazily against each other and laughing some more as they headed toward their bathroom._

__


	36. Epilogue

  
Author's notes: And this is it. Thank you, all of you who have stuck with me through this. I've never done the universe merging mambo before, and it's been "interesting". To say the least.  


* * *

Epilogue 

 

The unmistakable rumble of the Impala’s engine snapped Dean out of sleep. “Wha-Sammy?” No, Sam stretched out full length beside him, as close as he could be without exchanging skin cells. One hazel eye shone under a partially raised lid before Dean’s gentle “Go back to sleep, baby” sent Sam back to dreamland.

 

Every bone in Dean’s body ached as he forced himself to sit up. Missing his brother’s presence, Sam floundered for him and pulled him back down to lie beside him. “Dreamin’ I musta been dreamin’” Dean murmured a few seconds later. Arm wrapped around Sam’s waist, he closed his eyes and dozed off.

 

Just before some asshole gunned the Impala’s engine again. “Goddamnit! Who the hell _is_ that?” Bleary eyed, he rolled out of bed, crouched for a second to get his bearings and then levered himself upright. “Window – need a win – holy crap!” Blinking stupidly, he stared out, not believing his eyes. All he could think to do was -

 

“Dad! Dad, are you decent? Dad!” Dean’s bellow served as an alarm for the rest of the sleepers in Tamson House - and in every home within two square miles. “Dad, wake the hell up!”

 

“Dean?” John fumbled the bedroom door open, hopping in place as he finished yanking his jeans on. “What’s happenin?”

 

“Look out there. Seeing double – no, there’s only one of you, thank gods. Look out there!!!” Dean continued to point, but his voice had deserted him. 

 

“This had better be good! I only got back to –“John just gaped at the sight out the window, and the shivers that raised goose bumps weren’t caused only by the cold.

 

“Jensen! Jensen! Look! It’s number Seven! Isn’t that number Seven?” Jared’s excited voice boomed out from the front doorway, which provided the nearest view to the outside from his and Jensen’s bedroom. “That’s number Seven! C’mon! We gotta make –“

 

“No! Hold on, you two! Remember what happened yesterday? Jensen, how’s the shoulder?”

 

“Dad, I’m fine! It just nicked me! C’mon! We wanta go see if that’s number Seven!” 

 

John’s eyebrow went straight to his hairline and he folded his arms across his bare chest, every inch the annoyed senior hunter talking to an idjit with the brains of a lemon. For his part, Jensen found himself staring at the visible portions of the scar that marked a vicious injury and, more interestingly, staring at the muscled planes of John’s chest and abdomen. Recalling what was going on before he made a complete ass of himself, he gulped out “As soon as we’re dressed, sir. And after we’ve checked the area.”

 

“Better.” John’s nose twitched and he managed not to grin until Jensen turned his back. Jeff poked John in the side with his elbow and slid under his arm as the hunter wrapped it around him. “Jeff, what’s a number Seven?”

 

“Depends on if it’s flying or rolling,” Jeff responded wisely and mysteriously. Just before he ran a finger lightly down John’s ribcage, laughing outright at stern John Winchester actually giggling. “C’mon, we should-er, get dressed.”

 

“I hate to break up the high school reunion here, but you damn well _better_ get dressed. Food’s in the kitchen.” Bobby called from the other end of the hall. “Move it!”

 

Twenty minutes later, all their laughter deserted them as they walked into the kitchen and realized that things had been happening while they’d been – asleep. D’rRn stood talking quietly to Tehan, who limped still, but who was determined to return to the west, even if it meant doing so through the Un. Seated beside Te, D’s listened silently, sparing only a second and a tiny nod of greeting to everyone who walked in.

 

D’rRn spoke emphatically enough, although his tone remained soft and very formal. At last, persuaded by something his cousin said, Te nodded reluctant agreement. John frowned – he felt Jeff’s sadness and fear traveling from silver blue to green gold and wondered at it. “Baby boy?”

 

“I’ll miss D’rRn, John. He’s a good friend.” _And he loves you enough to put his life on the line for you and to keep you safe away from_ her _, no matter the cost to him. I’d rather have him here where he can keep you safe when I can’t._

 

“And damn good in a fight, too. They need him with them, Jeff.”

 

“I know. Are they taking D’rRn’s car?”

 

Bobby laughed humorlessly at Jeff’s innocent question. “No, Jeff. It got - er – sort of demolished yesterday. D’rRn can take ‘em through the Otherwhen safe as I could or John could. He’s traveled it enough times before now. It’s kinda interesting, the things you learn about folk over a cup of morning coffee.”

 

D’s stayed back behind Tehan as the daemon and John Winchester said their goodbyes. “The John Winchester will have a care for himself. This one agrees with D’rRn that the greater danger to you walks the streets of the west coast and that you are safer when that one is watched and kept far from you.

 

“But understand this, John Winchester; my oath is to protect your life. I hold to that and I will know if I am needed here.” Tehan felt himself falling toward John Winchester’s clear brown eyes with their alien round irises and checked himself sternly. Grasping at the water logged straw of daemon custom, he nodded to John and more formally to Jeff, turned and did not look back again.

 

Jeff saw Tehan’s shoulders shudder and then steady as D’s wrapped his left arm around his lover’s waist. Five minutes later, John saw them limping slowly into Tamson Forest, then pausing and waiting for D’rRn to join them. 

 

The strict social decorum followed among the daemon clans could be irritating: John had experienced enough of the tangled speech and formal versus less formal “the ones” and “this ones” during his years to dread the start of even a simple ‘Good morning’. But, as D’rRn approached them, he thanked tradition one more time for helping to make a hard parting bearable. And, he admitted to himself, he wasn’t just thinking about Jeff’s feelings when he did that.

 

John couldn’t place the emotion that flowed between his Otherself and the daemon. There was sadness on both of their parts, and deep and abiding trust on Jeff’s. At first he’d been jealous, just a little, over the attention that D’rRn paid to his Otherself. But Jeff’s absolute belief in the daemon was founded on their shared fear for his – John’s- safety. Curiosity raised its head as that thought wandered through John’s mind. Just for a minute – then D’rRn stood in front of him and spoke quietly. “You are needed here, John Winchester. And you are vowed to come to the aid of Tehan’s clan. You cannot do both. I have assumed your vow. I ask only this: take good care of yourself and of those in your charge. We will meet again.”

 

“Thank you, D’rRn for accepting my vow. I do not relinquish it willingly. And know that I may assume it again, if circumstances allow.” John’s mind ached as he tried to remember all of the sentences of his formal deferral of a spoken vow. “We will meet again.”

 

Jeff wished he could will D’rRn to stay with them. He wanted to hear “I’m staying. I won’t leave John in danger” but he knew that he wouldn’t, that D’rRn would risk his life over and again to keep John safely away from Mary. To help the clans deal with whatever came as a result of the merging and of Lucinda Larch. And, and Jeff knew it clearly, D’rRn would risk his life in the same way that John Winchester did when Darkness came to call. He shut his eyes for a moment and schooled his expression to something like calm.

 

When he looked again, D’rRn stood directly in front of him. He didn’t say anything, just rested the tips of the first two fingers of his right hand on his jacket, over his hearts. 

Jeff nodded once and touched the first two fingers of his right hand over his own heart. 

 

Farewells said, D’rRn picked up his backpack, and followed Tehan and D’s out the atrium entry door. 

 

John heard Jeff sniffle and swallowed his own emotions to comfort his Otherself. So much more remained to be done, not the least of which involved discovering what the hell Number Seven was. And why Tuesday looked like she’d swallowed a cactus, thorns first. He hadn’t missed the sound of her cell phone warbling earlier, even though he’d been – occupied. He smiled a little at that memory. 

 

“Tuesday, I-“he started. The weight of someone tapping on his shoulder brought him hard around and straight into six feet, two inches of determined daemon who didn’t say a word, just tilted John’s chin up and kissed him. Stunned, John pulled back, but D’rRn was having none of it. Gentle, inexorable, he kissed John again, tongue seeking John’s as he lightly bit John’s upper lip. 

 

John couldn’t breathe, didn’t know what was happening, and, abruptly, didn’t care. His tongue slid out to touch D’rRn’s and he deepened the kiss, swept away by the emotion that had shattered D’rRn’s reserves.

 

His world falling in tumbled splinters around him, Jeff choked and tried to free himself from John’s grasp around his waist. Instead, he felt D’rRn’s left arm enclose him and hold him still. Forcing him to watch while the daemon claimed his True Met Otherself. Jeff shut his eyes against the pain of loss and betray-

 

They snapped open again, immediately. Gold and silver, white and orange fire built and crested behind D’rRn, reached out to John, and carefully, so carefully, cradled Jeff’s silver blue.

 

And then D’rRn turned and leaned his forehead to Jeff’s. Hands shaking, he framed Jeff’s face. Jeff whispered a sigh when D’rRn kissed first his upper lip and then his lower before sliding both arms around Jeff and holding him tight. Jeff tilted his head just a little and D’rRn deepened the caress, traced the seam of Jeff’s lips and licked into Jeff’s mouth, chasing Jeff’s tongue with his own. 

 

When he had kissed his way back out of Jeff’s mouth, going slowly and reluctantly, he touched Jeff’s forehead with his own once again and whispered, “I am yours, Jeffrey Otherself,” he whispered. A wry smile crossed his features as he added, tone a bit lighter. “As John Winchester is.” 

 

“Stay – “

 

“I cannot. But I will return.” With that, he grasped John’s left hand and Jeff’s left hand between his and pressed them together. Without another word, he turned and walked back down the hall to the atrium door, closing it quietly as he went.

 

Jeff and John just stared at each other, totally at a loss.

 

“But – “

 

“He – what – he-“ 

 

 

Bobby coughed violently to cover the possible escape of anything resembling laughter. Not that any of what had happened was necessarily funny, he figured, but the looks on John and Jeff’s faces had gone way past hilarious and danced along the edges of priceless. Only Nancy’s squint-eyed glare kept him from what he figured might be a solid right hook from either her or the hunter. “I gotta take a leak. Be right back,” he mumbled as he made his way to the nearest bathroom. Safely locked inside, he laughed himself half to death. Every time he thought he’d calmed down, he’d think about John Winchester having a surprise tonsil hockey game with Tall, Silent and Brooding and burst into laughter all over again.

 

Jared and Jensen weren’t as successful at restraining their reactions, but their excitement at seeing number Seven surpassed any interest in something as mundane as John Winchester being kissed. And, since Jeff didn’t look like he’d suffered when D’rRn had kissed _him_ , they figured it was time for them to go and check out the prop car that had appeared over night right next to the Impala.

 

“Hey.” Dean called when the two actors finally appeared at the door. “Get on over here!”

 

Jensen stood a little away and let Jared approach the car first: unlike Dean, the actor didn’t experience near orgasm at the sight of a sleek muscle car. Jared, however, loved the prop car. Unlike most of the car – extras, number Seven could actually start and move, after a fashion. 

 

“It’s pretty rough lookin’,” Dean observed tartly. You guys not into takin’ care of your cars?”

 

“Dean, this is a prop car. All we’ve been allowed to do is get into it and back out again, maybe start it and back out of a spot. It’s not ours.” Jensen explained. Dean nodded and drawled, ‘Uh huh’ as he knelt down to take a closer look at the passenger side rear wheel. A hint of shine caught his attention. “Somebody’s been keepin’ it clean under all this dust.” He rubbed experimentally against the nearest piece of chassis and nodded. 

 

In spite of himself, Jared let out a quick breath when Dean fingerprinted the second Impala’s remaining paint. The sound was soft, but Dean heard it and grinned as he looked up. “Guess I know who _somebody_ is.”

 

“Jay?”

 

Jared flushed the brightest tomato red possible for a human being, and cleared his throat once or twice. “I’d pretend – I – oh hell, what’s it matter why I did it? I think we have a bigger question here? Like - “

 

Dean heard his and Sam’s Impala thrumming before the others did. “Guys, I think we’d better get out of the way!”

 

John’s truck picked up the sound and brought the volume up to a steady rumble, with Bobby’s cousin gliding in a moment later. Dean scrambled over the Seven’s hood and waved everyone back before he turned and stared.

 

The Seven Impala shuddered stem to stern just one time and revved its engine a heartbeat later, before it idled down and stopped. On the ground beside it lay something that Dean could only call dead Impala skin, dust and rust and worn paint and all. Jensen sat down with a thump on the grass, gaping at the sleek, shining car where it stood, and Jared managed not to land on Jensen when he sat down beside him.

 

“It’s a cousin.”

 

“No! Ya think? All this time? All the – I kicked it once!” Jensen turned anguished eyes toward Jared. “I kicked it!”

 

“For gods’ sakes, Jensen ya didn’t know! And we wouldn’t a believed it anyway! Don’t look like that! You know we wouldn’t have! Man, we have our own wheels! And they’re even better lookin’ that Sam and De-“Jared felt Dean’s glare even from ten feet away. “I mean, it’s as good lookin’ as Dean’s girl.”

 

“It was babysitting us! All this time it was – but I thought no one knew about all this True Met stuff until a few weeks ago!”

 

“There are things and things,” Nancy remarked as she walked across the lawn toward the cars. “And we don’t know all of them. The cousins are cousins to others than us.”

 

“Don’t start getting all romantic, Nancy,” Bobby rumbled. “Dayum but that’s a good lookin’ car! Looks like Dean and Sam get theirs back and Jared and Jensen have their own. I wonder what – no never mind.”

 

“We need to –“

 

“Talk. Am I right, Nancy?” Jared sighed. She nodded and watched as Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen and whispered something into his lover’s ear. “Jensen and I have something to say first.” Both men looked up at John, instinctively picking him as leader.

 

“John,” Jensen spoke softly. “I want to go and see my parents. Just to make sure they’re safe and to let them see that I’m safe.”

 

“Same here,” Jared added. “Lucinda Larch and everything else are going to have to wait until we’ve taken care of that. Unless you want to go ahead without us. Now that we have the cousin, we could meet up with you later.”

 

Nancy Creek had known that something like what Jensen had said was bound to happen. And she knew that John, whose expression had grown tighter and more strained by the second, would want to keep everyone together. Unfortunately, she also knew that the strategy that John used to persuade people included such time -proven tactics as demanding and fist pounding. Before the hunter could say anything, she stepped in to defuse the situation.

 

“Jared, Jensen, I think I should fill you in on what’s happening away from here right now.”

 

“What?” What do you mean fill us in? Is there something wrong at home? With our families – “Jared’s face went white and he gaped at Nancy. “Are they-“

 

“They’re fine. And since the first minute we knew who you were and were able to identify them, they haven’t been unguarded. Which is just as well.

 

“About ten days ago, one of the Crow Girls saw something she thought was off kilter. Trying to understand what Zia means can be a challenge, but I think I figured it out. She said that bad thoughts had come to live in good people and that the head maps they used to walk to Important Places had been torn and drowned. 

 

“Once I understood what she was saying, I sent her and Maida to watch some more. They came back three – no, four – days ago and told me the maps had been taped but that they all pointed in a spiral. Not that Zia used the word “spiral”. Nancy paused and smiled to herself, seeing again the Crow girl spinning in her black micro mini with the waves of sparkles sweeping it, spiky hair flying every which way. “Someone, at the least, is looking for your families, and they’re doing it methodically. 

 

“By two nights ago, I had to make a decision. Leaving them where they were and guarding them might have worked, and it might not. Moving them meant telling them what’s happening and hoping that they could at least accept some of it. Then, late in the night, Zia called and told me that something had killed a neighbor of your family, Jensen, a Mrs. Erdmann. I couldn’t get much more out of her, and Maida had set the guard on your parent’s home, but Zia was certain that it had been murder.

 

“Both of your immediate families are now in Breckenridge. I didn’t want to risk the Otherwhen, but it was important to move them quietly. It was the safest place I could think of: the wards there are layers upon layers deep and the mountains keep the watch.”

 

“Take it back!” Jensen snapped. He’d been growing more and more agitated as the moments passed, and Jared knew that the explosion was going to be major. But he didn’t expect what Jensen cried out. “Take it back! I don’t want this! Jay, make them take it back!!!”

 

“Take what back, Jensen?” Jared spoke as gently as he could in the face of Jensen’s wrath.

 

“I don’t want a color song! I don’t want to be - _this_! I want to be what I was! Make them take it back! My family is in danger! Because of _me_! Everyone we freakin’ _know_ is in danger because of us! I don’t want this! I never did! Take it back!”

 

“Jensen – “

 

“Can you tell me you want this? You want our families and our friends to be in danger every minute of every day because someone wants to do us harm? All I can think of is something happening to my sister or my brother or my mom and dad! I don’t want to do this! Damnit, Jay, I don’t want it! I want to go back!”

 

“Jensen-“Jared felt Jensen’s fists landing on his chest and knew that the other man wasn’t hitting to do harm. “Jensen – I know. I know. But I don’t see what-“

 

“Dad?” Jensen had slipped into the only identity he felt would handle the nightmare in front of him. Pulling on his version of Dean’s persona as he did so, he turned and looked beseechingly up at John. “Isn’t there another way?”

 

“Son, Jensen, I don’t know what to tell you.” John shook his head and glanced over at Dean. What do I do? he asked silently, expression full of sadness and certainty. Dean dipped his head in just the barest of nods. “Son, listen to your own heart. Do what you need to do.”

 

“Are you going to be there?” Jensen frowned and John saw the actor looking out again from his eyes. 

 

“Yes.” John hadn’t realized how much he’d put off deciding until he said that word. “I’ll be there.”

 

Jensen nodded and turned to peer into Jared’s eyes. “Jay, I don’t know what to do.”

 

“You’ll know when the time’s right, Jensen. You’ll know. And remember, we get to go and see our families! I hope they like high altitudes.”

 

“John, I’m staying here with Christabel and Tuesday. The warding here needs to be watched.”

 

“Bobby?” Tuesday’s voice wavered and he turned to face her. “I have to go back to the – reservation. For the final rite. For Zuelima and for Jack Crow.” She bit her lip and looked to the northeast, tears forming and slowly rolling down her cheeks as she did so. It was then that Bobby realized that Wednesday had not come to breakfast. She must have returned to the reservation during the night.

 

“Tuesday?”

 

“There was a fight – ambush. Those bastards are good at that. But not good enough.” Grimly she smiled and forced her fists to unclench. “The manitou fought alongside us: Jack Crow, of their number, died. And my – sis –“ The grief overran her and she sobbed. “I have to go.”

 

“I’ll come with you.”

 

A sigh escaped her and she nodded, but, when she turned and looked at him, he saw the “No” in her expression. “Stay here. You are needed and will be needed more soon. I will return. My heart walks next to yours, if you didn’t already know that.” Then, her bravery long gone, she threw her arms around Bobby’s neck. He wrapped her close and, for a few minutes, they stood there silently. With Bobby murmuring quietly to her, Tuesday and he returned to Tamson House.

 

Nancy watched John’s face sadden and chided him gently. “John Winchester, you know that Bobby is close enough. You’re needed elsewhere, and by more than these four rapscallions!”

 

“Nancy, I know this is hurting you. Stop bein’ all motherly.”

 

“I would have said “aunt-ly”.

 

“Jensen is a healer. We already have seen that. You, Jared, are a patterner, like John-“

 

“But handsomer and much more patient,” Jared interjected, understanding what Nancy was trying to do.

 

“If you say so. No matter what, you both have an incredible amount to learn before you’re ready to take your next step.”

 

“What the heck is our next step going to be? Nancy, I don’t believe any of this!” Frustrated, Jared raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, tangling it even more than it already was. “What if I don’t want to be a patterner? What if I want to be an actor? Which is exactly what I want to be!” 

 

“No one’s saying that you can’t act. But to go back into that life without adequate training leaves you vulnerable to danger that, right now, you can’t fight. Jared, it isn’t either/or. Not for you, not for Jensen.” Nancy started to say the same thing about Jeff, but the look in his eyes stopped her short.

 

“I only want to be with John,” Jeff whispered. “Don’t make me leave him.” John’s eyes misted over and he cleared his throat to get rid of a very suspicious lump that had formed in it. “No one’s ever going to make you leave, baby boy.” He whispered the words into Jeff’s ear and sealed the sentence with a gentle kiss. Jeff tilted his head up and his lips met John’s as the Hunter sought his.

 

Nancy laughed quietly. “I won’t, Jeff. No one will. They wouldn’t dare. You’re a mageling of great promise, though. We need to find you a teacher. I had thought maybe Bobby, but he’s bent on other tasks. We’ll find someone and Bobby can advise you long distance.

 

“I know this isn’t what any of us want. Especially you True Met. Your bonds are still too new. Yes, Sam, even yours and Dean’s. You’ve loved each other all your lives, and I understand that. But there’s loving and there’s being True Met. You deserve as much time as Jared and Jensen. And Jeff and John would be stronger if they had time to themselves and with you. “

 

“John! For gods’ sakes, John get in here!” Christabel shouted the words from the nearest front door of Tamson House. “All of you! Come _on!_ ”

 

Two minutes later, all of them stood around a flat screen TV, watching, dumbfounded, as a newscaster described the chaos behind him. “This morning – what? Thanks, Brad – early this morning, while the citizens of Palo Alto slept, the gangs that have, in recent weeks, left behind a trail of death and torture throughout California, struck again. The death count continues to rise, but first estimates state that somewhere between thirty and fifty residents have lost their lives. 

 

“However, this time, for the first time, a fallen bandit’s body has been recovered from the wreckage of his truck, which spun out and hit a bridge support. Before I release the images, I want to advise that they contain details of a disturbing and violent nature.” The reporter waited for approximately 45 seconds before the camera view segued to a photograph of a dead individual. “This person is male, stood approximately six feet tall, and weighed about 230 pounds. The coroner is presently working to determine whether the distortion of his features was genetic or caused by his impact with the abutment.”

 

“Looks like one of Lucy’s imaginary people to me.”

 

“Same here, Bobby. But not exactly like one. I wonder if we can get hold of the rest of the broadcast showing those guys riding through town.”

 

“Effective immediately, a curfew has been put into place for Palo Alto and the surrounding area. Anyone moving on the streets in violation of curfew will be arrested and incarcerated. Please stay tuned for further updates as more information is made available.”

 

“That makes all sorts of sense– “Sam snorted. They were attacked in their homes, so make sure they stay where they can be attacked again.”

 

John’s phone rang before Sam had finished his sentence. “This is John.” He’d stepped away from everyone in order to hear clearly. “What the hell are you doing calling me?” The outright hatred in his voice was all Dean needed to hear. 

 

“Mom.” Sam nodded and followed Dean over a spot two feet behind John. They knew better than to get too close. John wasn’t predictable after a phone call from Mary. “You what?” The bottom dropped out of his tone and he swayed. Instantly, Jeff pushed past Dean and Sam and caught John around his chest. “When? No. Get the fuck off this line. Don’t call me again.” He dropped the cell to the carpet and turned into Jeff’s embrace.

 

For a wild second, Sam thought something might have happened to D’rRn. John stared at all of them, face white and then grey. “Dad? What is it? Can you tell us?” Dean spoke gently and waited until John’s attention rested back on him.

 

“Hal - Bonnie.” John’s voice faded and broke against the concrete wall of disbelief. “Dead. Dead.” Arms stretched out in front of him like a blind man, he fumbled for a seat, nearly missed, fell into the chair after a second try. “On the way home from Denver.”

 

“But – “ Jared remembered Hal’s huge laughter and Bonnie’s rapier swift wit and felt grief twist his gut. They’d faced danger unafraid every day that the Winchesters and Jeff and Jared and Jensen had been in their guest house. And Jared knew that Hal had gone to “visit with friends” in Denver only after John’s insistence included a threat of fisticuffs.

 

“Your mother – Mary – called. Said there was a message-the paper was stabbed to Hal’s chest –knife-” 

 

“What did it say? Dad?” Jensen spoke so softly that only John and Jeff heard him. He rested his forehead against John’s cheek, listening in, hearing the raw pain sizzling along John’s nerves. “Can you tell me?” Worrying gently at the horror, attempting to lift it up and away from John’s mind, to distance it and soften it so that John could think more clearly. Sweat broke out on his forehead when he felt John resisting. “Let me help, John. Can you tell me?”

 

“All you love die.” Jensen didn’t recoil, although he wanted to. John’s control was barely in place, and Jensen knew only that he could keep it there until John could gather himself back from the places his mind had run.

 

“Intent,” Jeff murmured to the others. “Now.”

 

For a long time, the color songs sang the long slowness of grief and mourning of the violent separation of two spirits from their bodies. Listening carefully to John, Jensen shored his heart up and poured calm and healing into the gash left by Mary’s phone call. He knew John was recovering when the thought of Mary elicited fury. Carefully, one song at a time, he signaled the others to stand clear until he and Jeff held John and Jared held him.

 

Jared felt Jensen’s attention turn fully to him, and picked his Otherself up before he could hit the ground. “Jensen?”

 

“I’m fine. Just hang on to me, okay?”

 

“As if I’d ever let you go.” Jared looked up when John cleared his throat and tried to speak. “She said – she said the word came from a hunter in Colorado Springs. He tried to call me and couldn’t get through. She said. 

 

“She said I was meddling ‘again’. That I was re-responsi-“ he swallowed convulsively, “that I was responsible for their deaths. She didn’t say more than that. She didn’t need to.”

 

Without another word, John led Jeff back to their room and finished packing. Closed his journal and stowed it, triple checked everything then had Jeff check again. “Bobby?”

 

The older hunter had stood by, watching and waiting, knowing what John had to do. “John. Call me when you get in. And don’t go after her. It’s what she wants.”

 

“Yeah. No. I’ll call you.” John shook himself out of his shock and shook Bobby’s hand. “Take care of yourself, you old bastard!”

 

“Humph, with Tuesday and Christabel keepin an eye on me, what the hell trouble can I get into anyway?”

 

“Dean? Sam? You got any weapons you can loan those two?”

 

“Already done, sir.”

 

“Speaking of which?”

 

Dean laughed a little and pointed toward the Number Seven car, which was rocking on its wheels. “Breakin’ ‘er in.”

 

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Any coffee brewed? We’re gonna need it. And so are they.”

 

 

Jared loved being taller and longer limbed than Jensen because it meant that he could do what he was currently engaged in doing without suffering cracked bones and sprained back muscles. Jensen, dripping sweat and whimpering Jared’s name in a steady stream of one word, rode Jared’s cock while Jared bit along his shoulder and tongue fucked one perfect ear, then one perfect mouth and the other perfect ear. He felt Jensen’s erection push into his belly button and hit the nerves inside it, sending a jolt of pleasure to his cock. 

 

“Baby – yeah – just – oh _god_ \- do it again –“ holding Jensen’s cock in place and pushing against it, feeling the heat sweep straight to his erection buried inside his lover. Jensen grunted and took over the rhythm; swiveling his hips and thrusting forward, he strained up and crashed down onto Jared’s erection, then nailed Jared’s belly. 

 

“Oh god oh no oh god” Jensen moaned as his toes curled and every muscle in his body tightened. “Jay – now come for me-us-you oh god!”

 

Ten minutes later, Jay ventured out of his satiated haze to find Jensen still out in half sleep land. “Baby? I – think we – I think,” For the life of him, Jared couldn’t remember what he thought. Jensen opened one eye and nuzzled into Jared’s neck. When he spoke, however, he sounded at least awake. “John needs us.”

 

“Yeah. And we need him. But we needed this, too. You are one fuckin’ hot man, Jensen Ackles. I love you.”

 

“I love you, equally awesomely hot fucker that you are.” Jensen tried moving and almost fell onto the floor of the car. “I wonder if leather cleaner takes care of sticky come?”

 

“We could ask Dean and Sam.”

 

“Good thought.”

 

They staggered into Tamson House and headed for their room where their duffels waited on the bed. Beside each one rested a shotgun and a knife, gifts from Dean and Sam. After a quick shower, they followed the sound of voices that led to the library.

 

John sat in Jeff’s embrace, and Sam and Dean talked quietly over by the window. “Guys – uh-“ John looked up, and Jensen straightened immediately. Even Jared responded to the fire in the older man’s eyes. 

 

“You two aren’t in any condition to drive. Jared, you and Sam take your Impala. Jensen, you and Dean drive together. We don’t need you sliding into a mountain or drivin’ off a cliff. C’mon. Day’s wasting.” 

 

John took Jeff’s hand and led him to the truck, stowed Jeff in the passenger’s seat, their gear in back of the bench seat and the coffee thermos between them. Dean followed suit, slamming the trunk lid of the Impala down and looking across to the second Impala and Sam. 

 

“You ready?” John called?

 

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice and Sam’s rode one on top of the other.

 

“Then let’s get out of here. We have work to do.”

 

 

Finis


End file.
